


And When The World Comes To An End

by Tayathestrange



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Choking, Confinement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Harassment, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Infection, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Harassment, The Last of Us AU, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24352573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayathestrange/pseuds/Tayathestrange
Summary: Safe zones were like islands. Islands of peace, order and prosperity, devided by a sea of wilderness, where every breath could be your last.Camelot Safe Zonehas been Arthur's home ever since disaster struck. It is his duty to protect its citizens from any possible harm. May it be the raging monsters on the outside or misguided individuals on the inside. For fifteen years this has been Arthur's firm belief, the only solid conviction in a life of uncertainties. Then the actions of a rebellious group lead him beyond the walls where he might have to face an uncomfortable truth.Merlin's doubt in the safety of Camelot has grown slowly at first, like cracks in the walls that had been build to defend it. The day one of his closest friends was forced to leave those cracks turned into gaping chasms, whiping away his trust in the system. He dreams of building a better society and free the people of their oppressors. But in order to do so their greatest thread has to be eliminated first.When the two men meet under most unexpected circumstances they see themselves united by a common goal. Will they be able to see beyond their difficulties and brave the threads of the wilderness to reach it?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	1. Mission

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by a request that was part of the [Merlin Holidays Fest](https://merlin-holidays.livejournal.com/) 2018\. Back then somebody wished for a Zombie Apocalypse AU and my zombie-scenario-loving-ass couldn't resist to write a shorter scene for a Merlin inspired "The Last of Us"-AU. I love this video game with all my heart and the prospect of involving Merlin characters was just too good to be true. The one shot, of course, was not enough and I also didn't like it very much. That's why I decided to write the whole story.
> 
> I originally planned this story to be part of the [Merlin After Camlann Big Bang](https://aftercamlann.livejournal.com/) 2019\. But, as always, time management is not my strong suit and this turned out bigger than expected, so I didn't finish in time. I still want to acknowledge the involvement of the event, since it not only motivated me to get serious with this work but also brought me together with my wonderful artist. Thank you ACBB-Mods!
> 
> A giant round of applause and all the love goes to my artist, who even stuck with me after I said I'd drop out of the challenge. Thank you a thousand times, [Limeonik](https://limeonik.tumblr.com/), for all your enthusiasm for the topic and the fic, and even much more for the wonderful, dark, gritty fanart you created. I love every piece. Also, thank you for not abandoning me, even when you didn't hear from me for months and I told you much too late, that I changed some things. You're great!
> 
> Last but not least an enormous THANK YOU to my trusty beta and dearest friend [snickersnack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snickersnack/profile). You've been with me for so many years and you're still reading my stuff. I know that it's a lot of work, especially with this fic, and I hope you can enjoy it while correcting my mistakes. Thank you for your support and effort! I love you!
> 
> I'll post a new chapter every 2 weeks on Sunday. So, don't worry, this will be completed. I just have to clean up later chapters and I want to give myself enough time to do that.
> 
> Yes, I'm aware of the irony (and maybe even the controversy) of posting a Zombie-Apocalypse-AU during a global pandemic. I'm not making light of the situation. That's just how it turned out. I hope all of you who like Zombie-related stories can enjoy this work despite the circumstances.

“ _Ophiocordycepts Unilateralis_. Class: _Sordariomycetes_. Order: _Hypocreales_. Kingdom: _Fungi_ ”, Merlin’s voice echoed through the room, clearly to be heard by every one of his twenty pupils. The chalk scratched uncomfortably over the blackboard while he wrote out the complicated words they would soon forget. But that was alright, because the words wouldn’t save them if the teenagers in front of him would ever have to face what they indicated. “This fungus is a so called insect-pathogenising fungus, predominantly found in tropical forest ecosystems. Usually it infects ants, altering their behavioral patterns.”

He started to walk through the classroom, which had gone quiet, and handed out a variety of books with marked pages. Upon opening, his students saw images, photographs or scientific illustrations of the process he was about to describe.

“The spores of the fungus attach themselves to the ant’s exoskeleton to break through. Yeast stages of it will grow through the ant’s body and start manipulating its behavioral patterns. The fungus will force the ant to clamp to a leaf’s vein at the perfect height, temperature and position for the fungus to grow. Mortality will set in after 4 to 10 days, while the infection will have gone into a reproductive stage where the fruiting bodies will already have started to grow from the ant’s head.”

Pausing, he let his gaze wander over his class, several pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly, some of them radiating unease. For a moment he let himself think of his own school times and how he and his classmates would have reacted to the gruesome life cycle of the ophiocordycepts. Many of them would’ve probably joked about how spooky it was, how disgusting. They would’ve pointed at the pictures and said-

“ _Zombie-Ants_ ”, Merlin cleared his throat and continued, “is a more popular title for these infected insects, and it’s also a title sometimes used to describe our infected. Almost two decades ago the first mutation of the fungus people like to refer to as _Zombie-Fungus_ \- very original, I know - was first discovered by Prof. Herriett Pine on an excursion to Burma. The few records that we have from her research, show that the fungus had already become extraordinarily large at the time, showing its potential to infect other species. But the animal-kingdom was not fazed by the mutated growth. Instead humans became the new target.”

He went back to the black board while he continued his lecture.

“Nobody knows which circumstances motivated its mutation. There is some speculation about global warming being a favouring factor, since the higher temperatures and humidity improved the living conditions for the cordycepts and gave it the chance to not only grow bigger but also spread into regions which would have originally been too cold for it to thrive.”

With the crude style of someone who never really had any potential for a successful art career he drew a simple illustration through the middle axe of a human skull, putting most care in the depiction of the respiratory system and the brain.

“When it comes to the human species it would take too long for the infection to break through our skin and skull. The spores just take the easy route through our nose and mouth or through our blood, to find a direct way to our brains. In its first stage - incubation time is about two hours - the yeast growth will start feasting on our frontal lobe, thus damaging our ability to think, speak and write. This will influence our self-awareness greatly and in a matter of hours we will lose our personality, civilised behaviour and emotions. The tendrils will then quickly reach the motor strip, as well as the sensory strip and, naturally, the brain stem, but instead of damaging those beyond repair, the fungus will use its ability to influence the production and flow of certain enzymes to take full control of our bodies. After less than twenty-four hours after the infection we will completely lose conscious thought and emit the aggressive and primal behavioural patterns which all of you have seen on our excursion to the wall yesterday.”

When he walked from the blackboard around his table to lean against the front, twenty pairs of big eyes followed his every move. No one whispered. No one smiled. No one was half asleep on their desk. These children knew the harsh reality of what he taught. Maybe they had never been outside the Wall, in the Wilds, but each one of them had at least one family member or friend who had fallen victim to either the monsters or their masters. Enough of them were orphans. 

After several seconds of oppressive silence he cleared his throat, class was almost over.

“So, last five minutes. What are the stages of infection we know and how do they express themselves?” he asked. These two questions always marked the end of his lessons. His pupils would be able to state the answers when woken up at four in the morning, after two hours of sleep, by dousing them in ice cold water. They would also know how to kill him in at least five different ways if he pulled such a prank. “Ben”, he said, looking at the fifteen year old boy with mouse brown hair and a round face.

“Uhm the first one is the _Runner_. They uhm… they still have all their senses and act very mad. They scream a lot and, well, run very fast.”

Merlin smiled.

“That’s correct. In the first one to two weeks a newly infected person will show no outer signs of infection past their behaviour. For the first few hours they’ll also have a certain capacity to think. Their biggest threat is their speed. Next is Jennifer.”

“ _Stalker_. They show first fungal growth around their ears and mouth, and usually in the spot where the person’s been bitten, if that’s how they got infected. They are highly dangerous since they still have a capacity to think and use it to lurk and stalk their prey silently.”

Quick witted Jennifer, a freckled girl with pigtails and an attitude, absorbed knowledge like a sponge. If advanced programmes for highly motivated students still existed he would have enrolled her in several of them.

“Very good, I have nothing to add. Next is Victoria.”

Blond Victoria with her cow-like eyes always looked a little shocked when called upon. Looking at her desk and playing with her locks she answered:

“It’s the _Clicker_ , I think. The fungus has grown all over their head and they can not see or hear or speak anymore. They mostly just stand around and make this awful clicking sound.”

“And why do they make this?”

“Uhm, they use uh, what’s it called? E-Ergo-location-”

“Echolocation, for God’s Sake”, Jennifer suddenly exclaimed, her voice dripping with exasperation. Merlin had already seen her fidget. Victoria’s awkward answer was pure torture to her.

“Jennifer! We don’t take the Lord’s Name in vain in this classroom”, he said, struggling to keep a straight face. She knew that he didn’t believe in God, just like any of them. Still, he needed to call her out somehow.

“I’m sorry Mr. Emrys, but-”

“No ‘buts’. You have to let the others finish. We’ve had that conversation. Apologise.”

Jennifer obliged but only grumbled the apology in Victoria’s general direction who answered with a shrug.

“What Victoria said was also correct. Clickers may have lost most of their senses, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. The clicking sound they emit just helps them to ‘see’ - like a bat - through echolocation. Also, they still have a mouth and extremely strong jaws. They’re not to be trifled with. Last one is Henry.”

If Merlin had to describe Henry’s appearance he would say that he looked a lot like Harry Potter, book-version. A nest of unruly black-brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, bony knees and, as if he had been going for it, round glasses with a strip of tape to keep them on his nose. In personality he was also just like his fictional twin; pretty average but sometimes prone to witty comebacks.

“ _Bloaters_ ”, Henry exhaled, crossing his arms on the table and pushing his glasses further up his nose. “They’re the last ones we know of. They have huge bodies overgrown by so much fungus that it’s created plates of armour. That’s why they’re very hard to fight. They also apparently shoot projectiles made of spores instead of biting since they can not move that well.”

Merlin nodded in agreement.

“No one who’s never been outside Camelot will have seen a living specimen. They’re rare since it takes many years until the fungal growth has developed this far. We don’t know how many exactly but ten is the rough estimation. Hope to never encounter one of them because they’ll crush you like a stone lavine”, he ended, trying to go for a joke, but only a few weak smiles appeared on the young faces. Pushing himself off the table awkwardly, Merlin turned back to the blackboard and grabbed a sponge to erase his writing. “OK, that’s it for today. No homework, since it’s the weekend tomorrow and I’m a cool teacher. See you on-”

“Mr. Emrys?”

He turned back around to face whoever had spoken. A few of his pupils had already got up to pack their backs but stopped in their tracks. All eyes were on Jennifer who was looking at Merlin with serious intent.

“Uhm, yes, Jennifer?”

“Is it true that nobody has ever come close to developing a cure?”

Merlin swallowed heavily at the question. They hadn’t had this subject in a long time. There was not much to say anyway but there was also a restriction on what he was allowed to say. If he wanted to keep his job he needed to be careful.

“No, not really. At least not as far as I’m aware of. There were a few attempts but for safety reasons our...government decided to prohibit any further research. I’m sure you all know that”, he said carefully. His fingers found the sleeve of his shirt, fumbling nervously with the hem.

Jennifer looked at him, unsatisfied. “Yes, but the Druids have done more research, haven’t they?”

“The Druids are a lawless group of radicals whose ventures in any direction have always been dangerous and more than illegal under our current rule. With their actions they’re putting every one of us at risk and you will do good to remember that.”

“But-”

“The class is dismissed”, he cut her off sharply. She looked taken aback and it sent a pang of guilt through his guts, but he needed to protect them. They were still too young to fully understand the extent of the circumstances they were born into. 

Biting her lip Jennifer packed her bag and stomped out of the classroom, the others following her quietly. When everyone was gone Merlin slumped into his chair, the old wood and metal creaking under his weight. This was not how he wanted to say goodbye.

\---

As long as Arthur had known him, his father had always stood at the window when he entered his office. It had been like that when he was ten years old and went to find Uther in the middle of the day because he had once again won a footie match at the army base and wanted his dad to be proud of him, and nothing seemed to have changed since then. Except everything had changed. They were not at the army base that had been his home, he was not ten years old anymore and there was hardly any time for footie matches. The world had really gone to shite.

“Father, you wanted to speak to me.”

“Come here, Arthur”, his father waved him over.

Arthur walked around the ridiculously massive oak desk that dominated the whole room to stand next to him. They were on the fifth floor of a former office building that marked the middle point of Blandford Forum, a small town in Dorsetshire. 

After escaping London fifteen years ago with almost a hundred other survivors in tow they had first arrived at the barracks of Blandford Camp, an army base about three kilometers to the east. More people - injured, confused, hungry - poured in and the situation got out of hand quickly. His father, still Capitan Pendragon at the time, led the mission to clear the abandoned town nearby off infected and install a new leadership to protect their small community, which counted eight-hundred souls by then. 

Surrounded by three main streets as well as reinforced walls the so-called _Triangle_ had served as the center of their new government ever since. Inside, Arthur could see only a few members of their security troop lingering around, manning the gates and buildings as well as checking equipment or supplies. Outside, the streets were bustling with a good number of their almost two-thousand citizens, going about their everyday lives as if nothing waited for them beyond the second wall and the River Stout. But the peaceful image was treacherous. There may be no fungus driven monsters here but frustration and anger could be equally infectious. 

“Father?” Arthur asked after they had been standing shoulder to shoulder for over a minute.

“Look at them”, Uther said, nodding his head towards the road, “don’t they look satisfied? Shouldn’t they be grateful to live such a safe life in times like these?”

Arthur frowned. “They are grateful, father. They know what you’ve done for them.”

“That’s where the problem lies.” With a sigh of resignation the Colonel turned around. A faded map depicting Blandford Forum covered the desk behind them. Uther pressed his hands into the outlines of their home. “They might remember the fact that it was I who led them here, who led them to safety. But that was a long time ago. Fifteen years has made them forget how much work it was, how many sacrifices we had to make. The minds of most of the people are too simple. They don’t see what it takes to _keep_ us safe.” Uther’s fingers pressed down harder, wrinkling the paper. “Most of them have become too comfortable and that is always breeding ground for dissatisfaction, for _trouble_.”

“Is this about the Druids?” Arthur asked, a sympathetic note swinging in his voice. The rebellious group that had emerged several years ago, just after the law against research concerning the cordycepts had been passed, was becoming increasingly troublesome. Spray painted messages putting Uther’s government to shame had only been the beginning back then. Now they goaded the citizens every few months into another protest, calling for more freedom, democracy and even a cure. Though Arthur had been unable to prove it as yet, he was convinced that they were stealing supplies as well as weapons from the warehouses, and their control of the black market was growing. All in all the group had definitely been a thorn in his eye ever since he became Captain of Camelot’s security guard. “I’ve never seen you that concerned about them. Have you not always dismissed them as a gang of bored teenagers?” he asked when his father nodded.

“Yes, until now that’s what they’ve been. Or at least it seemed like it. But now I see that I might have misjudged them.”

“What is this about?” Arthur felt himself becoming agitated. “What have they done?”

“It’s not about what they’ve done, it’s about what they are planning to do. An informant of mine has gained intel, that they’ve been gathering components. And not only the fragments of their grouping that reside in Camelot. Cells from other safe zones as well.”

“Components? To build what?”

Uther straightened, his gaze falling into Arthur’s. The creases around his eyes were more numerous now that he had reached fifty, but his father’s eyes had always been sharp and unyielding.

“Explosives.”

Ice poured into his stomach. “You mean-”

“It has not been confirmed, but it is the most likely theory.”

“Attacking a safe zone… that is an extremely serious accusation. We have to find these components and arrest the responsible individuals for questioning. Is there any intel on the storage location?” His body was already thrumming with the urgency to act. Walking to the other side of the desk Arthur leaned over the map, his head listing all known or suspected Druid dens.

“Unfortunately more accurate information is rare, as always. But it wouldn’t be of much use anyway”, Uther pointed out.

“Why?”

“The goods will leave Camelot, _tonight_.”

Taking his eyes off the map Arthur found himself coming face to face once again with the Colonel. “They’re trying to smuggle them out of the zone”, he concluded and gained a nod of confirmation.

“And I trust you to take care of the situation, Captain Pendragon.”

\----  
.  
The early afternoon sun had heated up the hallways to an unbearable level in the un-climatised building when Arthur made his way to the meeting room on the second floor. Not for the first time in this summer, he longed for a trip back to the world they had lost, even if only to spend an afternoon at a crowded mall with good air-conditioning. Wiping the sweat away that had formed on his brows he turned a corner and was hit by a surge of amused laughter, the source being the other side of the door Arthur was aiming for, and one high pitched voice, in particular forced an exasperated eye roll from him.

“Morgana, what are you doing here?”

The question was more rhetorical than awaiting an actual answer, but he delivered it just for good measure. The picture in front of him was familiar; his adopted sister lounging with crossed legs in the ancient armchair which occupied one corner of the room, her sleek black hair cascading down one side of her neck, making her appear more elegant and put together in her loose tank top, well worn jeans and dirty trainers than she had any right to be in the sweltering air of a post apocalyptic summer. 

“Oh”, Morgana exclaimed pretentiously, quirking an eyebrow, “my dear brother has arrived.”

“ _Adopted_ brother, though of course this could never be made official with the absence of any administration to do the paperwork”, Arthur commented while moving closer to the group to lean against one of the two tables which were littered with maps of the area as well as notes and reports on recent Druid- and Infected-Activity. 

Morgana’s face had gone slightly sour but she knew he didn’t mean it. 

They had grown up on the same army base, their parents being friends even before they were born, ‘causing them to spend all their time together. After Arthur’s mother died in childbirth, one year old Morgana quickly slipped into the role of a big sister, and did an expert job in establishing herself as the most infuriating, impertinent and overly confident sibling of all time. Arthur loved her very dearly for it.  
When the first wave of the infected had swept through London and forced them to abandon their home, he had the unfortunate chance to return the favour. Morgana’s parents had not been on the base when they left. Chaos and fear reigned for years, making it impossible to search for them and until today nobody had any clue concerning their fate. Morgana had accepted Uther as her legal guardian about a year after they had established their new home in Blandford Camp. But there was no way of knowing if she had actually buried the hope to see her parents again one day. His clever, sharped tongued, beautiful sister could be extremely secretive when it came to her emotions.

“Adopted or not, you’ll always be my younger, slightly daft-minded little brother”, Morgana finally grinned in reply. From the corner of his eyes Arthur could see his men throwing him expectant glances, curious to see how the situation would pan out. Arthur huffed.

“I’m asking again: what are you doing here? I told you, you’re not supposed to be in the War Room.”

Morgana laughed. It was a pleasant sound, melodic and clear, full of genuine amusement.

“Oh Arthur, stop being so serious. You call this dusty corner office with peeling wallpaper a War Room? Don’t be ridiculous. I just came in to see how you and my boys were doing.”

“We’re not a boy group, ‘Gana”, Elyan complained, but there was no heart in it. When Morgana looked at him, her lower lip moving forward in a pretended pout, he grinned, showing perfectly white teeth that were almost glowing in his dark skinned face. 

“I don’t know”, Percival said thoughtfully, “ _Arthur and the Boys_ has a nice ring to it. Maybe it’s a good career path as soon as the apocalypse is over.” Perci’s massive frame was putting a dent into the ugly sofa he was occupying. When he had come to Camelot, Arthur and his father had wholeheartedly agreed that a man of his qualities would be a great asset for the security troop. Over time he had not only become a good soldier but also one of Arthur’s closest friends. The same went for Elyan. He had already been with the survivors that came to the barracks fifteen years ago. Since he and Arthur were of the same age they had befriended each other quickly, and so did Morgana. When Arthur had turned Captain and it was time to choose his most trusted men there was no question who he would make part of his inner circle. 

“If we're gonna be like those _Jonas Brothers_. I guess I’ll be the sexy one. Keep the crazy fangirls off your backs”, Gwaine pushed into the conversation. The remark was topped off with a flip of his wavy brown mane that could make any guy jealous. If they did really get to form a boy group Arthur could very well picture the man with the rugged but handsome face, five o’clock shadow and a swagger that had no place in the army, being the ladies man. Gwaine had joined their group as the last addition. Arthur had already been promoted to Captain and had been outside with a small group, to make a sweep of the area surrounding Camelot when they had gotten into a pinch. Gwaine had appeared out of nowhere with a DIY-spear and secured a path for them to get out. 

That only left Leon to add his bit to the mix. But the oldest of their group, with his thirty-five years, only scoffed, leaving Gwaine to his delusions. Leon was about to finish his basic training under Uther at the time of the outbreak. Back home Arthur hadn’t known him very well, but he had become one of Uther’s best men in the wake of the apocalypse and one of the first to venture out and secure Blandford Forum to build their safe zone. Until Arthur rose in rank Leon had been his superior and mentor, but he would never stop looking to the older man for advice.

“What? Nobody agrees?” Gwaine looked around the group, acting disappointed for a second, but then he shrugged. “You all just got no taste.”

“Probably”, Arthur replied dryly.

“Poor Gwaine”, Morgana cooed, “none of your comrades really appreciates you. But don’t worry, I do.” 

The words brought the man down on one knee next to the arm-chair. Taking Morgana’s hand in his he breathed a kiss on its back. Arthur wanted nothing more than to kick his dramatic arse.

“I am so grateful, mylady. Is there any way you would like to show your appreciation?”

“I don’t know”, Morgana replied while getting up slowly. Taking a step into their midst she took a turn to look at each one of them in a contemplating fashion before laying a thoughtful hand on her chin. “Maybe I could secure a few bottles of the very special thing we’ve just got into storage yesterday for you.”

“No way!” Elyan was immediately at her side. “Don’t tell me there’s been a new crate from Mercia.”

All faces lit up with an expression of positive disbelief and shock. Arthur could even feel his own jaw drop. Mercia, formerly Plymouth, was situated south-west of them. After their father renamed Brandford Forum into Camelot the whole Arthurian theme reached other safe zones in their general vicinity and soon they had Mercia, Gawant and even Essitir to trade with. One of the most sought after goods these days was a certain brand of beer that the Mercians had somehow managed to produce despite the dire circumstances. They called it _Dragon’s Brew_. Nobody knew the recipe but in times like these beggars could not be choosers and the taste was phenomenal. For one crate they had to trade some extremely valuable goods; parts of their own harvest as well as medication. But it was worth it when one could sit down with a pint at the local pub and for a moment pretend that it was just the end of an ordinary day. 

Morgana was grinning now, like the cat who got the cream, Arthur thought.

“Well, being the manager of storage and supplies has its perks, as you all very well know from all the goodies I’ve brought you over the years. And we even have two crates, so that’s a bottle for each one of you lot.”

“‘Gana, you’re our best girl”, Percy said, his giant arms surrounding her in a bear hug. 

“To Morgana, our actual Queen!” Gwaine exclaimed and pumped his fist into the air. Elyan and Percy followed suit in a chorus while Leon grazed at the picture with a fond smile. 

“OK, OK, that's an amazing announcement but we all need to calm down.” Reigning in his own excitement, Arthur forced himself to break up the small party celebrating the unexpected delivery of some good booze. “We need to get back to work and I’m sure Morgana has enough things to do on her list for today.”

It took another second before everyone finally backed away from his sister, but not without another hug, shoulder-squeeze or at least a fist-bump. Once again Morgana had made herself the center of their world. 

“So, I guess that’s my cue then. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your very important _War Room_ discussions, gentlemen. I’ll have the bottles delivered to you later.”

Winking one last time she made her way to the door and Arthur followed, a strange feeling blooming in his chest. “I’ll be right back”, he mumbled, shutting the door after he stepped out behind her. 

“‘Gana”, he said, grabbing Morgana’s lower arm to keep her from leaving, “was that the sole purpose of your visit today?”

She took a second to turn around. When she did her lips were smiling but her eyes showed a different emotion. Was it regret? 

“What, can I not swing by from time to time to see my boys?”

The words sounded cheerful but they were hollow.

“Of course you can. You know they love you and I don’t really mind as long as you don’t distract them too much with your one-woman-show”, he answered, earning himself a bemused tug of her mouth. “But somehow I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. And I don’t like that.”

Her smile faded then, her pale face taking on a softer expression. Morgana’s green orbs shimmered more strongly now, as if additional moisture was gathered beneath her lids. She blinked it away but the expression stayed; a mixture of remorse and longing.

“You’re worrying too much, baby-brother. But it’s something that I love about you. You always want others to be fine”, she said and stepped forward to hug him tightly. His own arms closed around her more out of habit while his brain still tried to catch up with her words. The embrace was over before he could fully enjoy it, Morgana’s last touch being a light kiss on his left cheek. “Just don’t forget about yourself in the process.”

Leaving Arthur to contemplate her cryptic advice, she turned the corner and was gone.

\---

The sun had gone down roughly two hours ago and the air was finally cooling down. It was a relief to Merlin’s body. Throughout the day his growing nerves had started torturing him with waves of heat and cold shudders alike, making him sweat like a pig but also as stiff as an icicle. His fingers were barely able to adjust the straps of his backpack.

“Let me do that.” Morgana pushed his trembling hands away to loosen the straps before pulling them tighter, using slightly more force than was really necessary. “Alright?” she asked, when she was done. Her face was filled with sincere concern. 

“Yeah, it’s just...nerves”, he shrugged, trying to hide his fear behind a goofy smile. As an answer Morgana’s slim hand found his shoulder to squeeze it lightly. The corners of her mouth had gone up. 

“It’ll be fine. You’ve been out there before. We all have.”

“Yeah but it feels bigger, more important and it is...isn’t it? And I couldn’t even tell my mum why we’re leaving. She’ll be worried-” He stopped himself when he realised what he was doing. “I’m sorry. I’m whining like a kid, but everybody’s putting themselves at risk. I’m gonna stop now.” 

“Merlin”, Morgana said, her voice much lower than before, “it’s ok that you’re nervous and of course you’re gonna miss your mother. Heck, I’ll definitely miss her, I mean… the kind of cooking she’s able to do with those jack shit ingredients she’s got? I’m already weeping because I have to leave this behind.”

Merlin was not the only one who started laughing then. Ben, Becky and Nora had heard Morgana’s rant and wholeheartedly agreed. Almost everyone of the inner Druid-circle of Camelot had in one way or the other come in contact with Hunith Emrys’ magical cooking or baked goods, or her medical abilities as a well experienced nurse. She would be dearly missed by all of them. The shared feeling of sympathy for his mother brought a little lightness back to his heart. His hand slipped over Morgana’s on his shoulder and squeezed it in return.

“Thank you, for everything”, he said. The woman in front of him, who had become one of his closest and loyal friends over the past three years, just shook her head and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Merlin answered the gesture just as sincerely, ignoring the uncomfortable heat blooming between them. 

“I’ll protect you, Merlin. No matter what”, Morgana whispered into his ear after a few moments. The promise was spoken with determination, resonating through Merlin’s body and making his heart skip a beat. When Morgana let go of him he watched her grabbing her machete from the metal table which occupied the center of the room and shoving it into her belt. She did the same with her gun. Seeing her sharp and slightly aggressive movements left no doubt in Merlin that she would make good on her promise. If push came to shove she would kill for them.

“OK, we’ll be heading out in two minutes. Let’s recap the plan one last time. Nora?”

“We’re gonna walk the tunnel from the school basement, pass under the outer wall and use the exit right behind to Crown Meadows. We’ll cross the field quickly and use the prepared boat to cross the river. After that it’ll be a short walk through the shallow side channel and over the rails to get to New Road. From there we’ll head south-west until we reach the safehouse.”

Merlin had always wondered how Nora had ended up with the Druids even before he did. The red head of twenty-six years didn’t strike him as the rebellious type. Usually shy and quiet in her personality, one would not think she was someone to take risks. But he had never seen anybody stay as level headed as her when things went pear shaped. 

Morgana nodded sharply and shifted her focus to Ben.

“What do we do, if we get separated?”

Ben was leaning his broad frame against one of the bare windowless walls that surrounded them like a concrete tomb. He tried to seem relaxed but Merlin could see the tension in his shoulders. When he spoke his voice carried strained annoyance.

“Meeting-point is the safehouse at dawn. If we don’t make it, the next meeting-point is the factory in the late afternoon. Whoever doesn’t make it, gets left behind.”

“And?” Morgana inquired, one of her eyebrows arching threateningly.

“And make sure we don’t get followed. If we do, we have to shake them off. If that doesn’t work we’ll have to go back into the zone. If we’re caught and questioned we’re only an ordinary civilian on a night out… as if they’d ever believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter, if anybody believes it, what matters is that that’s the only answer they’ll get. Understood?” Morgana growled lowly, her eyes now cutting into Ben’s. His stance shifted immediately into a more alert position.

“Yes, m’am”, he replied, all annoyance gone.

“Good. I know we’ve been over this. I know that these have been the rules since the founding and that you're well aware of them. I know I can trust you, otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen you. But today is special. This mission is special, and I have to make sure that we’re all as well prepared as we can be. Because this _can not_ go wrong.” Though she spoke in the collected manner of a natural leader, the urgency in Morgana’s voice was still apparent, making Merlin’s heart beat quicker. “This mission might be our biggest step towards a better future and we can not miss it or it might never come again.”

In the several seconds of silence that followed, Morgana gave each of them a long look of earnest contemplation. When their eyes met, Merlin was convinced she could hear his heart drumming against his ribs. But even through the fear he nodded when she did. 

The last person her eyes found was Becky. She was small but also fierce, holding her head high when her leader stepped up to her for one last question.

“Becky, what is the last rule for this mission?”

Shoving her chin forward the shorter women broadened her stance and curled her fingers around the handle of her gun. When she answered her words rang loud and clear through the room.

“Protect Merlin at all costs.”

\---

If it had not been for the sweat pooling under his kevlar vest and a gun weighing down his hands it could have been a beautiful night, Arthur thought. His eyes looked up to the clear sky, making out constellations that were probably only visible through the lack of light pollution. When was the last time he had slept under the stars? He could hardly remember. Uther had always been busy, stuck between Queen and Country, so his few hazy memories only consisted of short camping trips he had taken with Morgana. He smiled fondly for a moment, picturing her in jeans and a t-shirt, completely soaked because she had tried fishing with a self-made spear and failed miserably. 

“Did you hear that?” Leon asked under his breath.

Dragged from his thoughts Arthur turned his head and tried to make out his comrade’s face in the dark. The moon was almost full, reflecting enough light to illuminate Leon’s silhouette, but the shadows under the trees made it impossible to pick out any details.

“What do you mean?” Arthur replied.

“I think I heard voices from the tunnel. But it could’ve been my imagination”, Leon mumbled. 

Arthur forced himself to concentrate. Shoving the memories to the back of his mind, he listened closely to make out anything that was not the obnoxious chirping of crickets or tree tops rustling in the wind. Besides Leon he had brought four other men with him. They were all older, more experienced soldiers that had already served under his father. Arthur didn’t particularly enjoy working with them; they seemed to question his authority at every turn and only grudgingly obeyed his orders. All his father had to say about that was ‘you have to prove yourself to them’, and that had been the end of it. If it had been his choice, Arthur would have only taken his most trusted, his _Knights_ , like he sometimes referred to them in his head, for tonight’s operation. But Uther had insisted on a bigger group of more experienced men, arguing that they could not fail in capturing the smugglers. Arthur was forced to oblige. 

They knew of at least three hidden exits the Druids were still using to get out of the safe zone. He had positioned his own group in front of the central point of the outer wall. This way they were still close enough to the others if the smugglers emerged elsewhere. Elyan occupied the south with three additional men. It would be the least likely tunnel to be used since it was closest to the heavily guarded bridge. The last group consisted of six men, including Percy and Gwaine, guarding the northern stretch. Arthur’s heart felt lighter with the knowledge that these men, _his_ men, would be keeping an eye on Uther’s brigade. His father might be a smart man but he had never surrounded himself with exceptionally trustworthy individuals.

Owain and Galahad had taken position to both sides of the cleverly disguised hole in the ground. Arthur was eyeing the two now, the moonlight streaming between the treeline and the wall illuminating them well enough to recognise their posture. They must have been alerted by something. Their bodies seemed tenser than before, their rifles pointed at the pile of wood and rubble. Owain turned his head to look in Arthur’s general direction. Raising his hand he held up five fingers. Arthur’s muscles tensed, his heart pushing the blood through his veins in a faster rhythm, his whole awareness zoning in on the spot between the two men.

Two mouldy wooden planks started to shift in the pile, smaller stones and debris loosened and tumbled to the ground. A pair of hands appeared and pushed the heavy material away. A huff could be heard from underground and then a hastily whispered “I got it, I got it”. Seconds later the frame of a broad man came into view, half illuminated by moonlight, half hidden in the shadows. Owain and Galahad ducked and took a few steps backwards. After the stranger had climbed out he stretched his hands back into the tunnel and helped the others in their ascent. One after the other five people made it to the surface. Three of them turned to look at their surroundings while the two remaining whispered to each other. 

Arthur had ordered the men to remain in their positions until the group had walked further into the trees. He didn’t want to risk anyone escaping back into the city. His father’s two remaining men, Jonathan and Chris, were lurking in the last row of trees before they gave way to the farm land between Camelot and the River Stout. They would cut off the group’s escape route while the others would surround them from behind. 

Whatever discussion had been going on between the Druids, they were obviously finished now, one of them gesturing quietly to get the group moving. As they passed him, Arthur focused on their faces, trying hard to recognise any of them but the sparse light made it impossible. He slipped out of his hiding spot and raised his gun. Though he had no intention of shooting anybody, but arresting five rebels was definitely easier with a proper threat in form of a full-sized SIG Sauer in hand. He threw a last glance at Leon who answered with a pronounced nod to signal that everyone was ready, then Arthur opened his mouth.

Gunshots in the distance interrupted him before he could speak the first word. Several gasps of surprise reached his ears. The Druid group between them had stopped in their tracks and turned their heads north. Arthur had done the same and there in the dark he could see it; a spark and then another shot echoed through the night, followed by a scream. For a fraction of a heartbeat all of them were frozen, their feet rooted to the earth, the shock taking all ability to think and act. Then one of the Druids spotted Arthur.

“Shit! They’re here!” a female voice shouted, her index finger pointing into the dark. 

“Run!” somebody else exclaimed and chaos erupted. 

“Freeze!” Arthur shouted but none of the rebels paid him any mind. In a surprisingly clever move they all tried to escape into different directions. Had they been outnumbered, one would have definitely gotten away. But like this it was only a matter of seconds until each and everyone had been grabbed in a secure hold and pressed to the ground.  
“Fucking Pendragon bastard!” the broad shouldered man, who had first emerged from the tunnel, spit into his face. Arthur decided not to comment on the slur he had heard more than once in the last few years. Instead, he secured the man’s wrists with a zip tie and dragged him to the others.

“We’re arresting you for the crime of leaving the safe zone without authorisation and after the curfew. You’re also under the suspicion of smuggling highly illegal and dangerous goods.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” one of them interrupted, but Arthur proceeded.

“You will stay under arrest until the hearing of the administrative court. There you will have the chance to answer for your crimes.”

Ignoring additional complaints he turned to Leon who looked at him expectantly.

“Arthur, what the fuck? Gunshots?”

“I know. I instructed them to only shoot as a last resort. Something must’ve happened. I’ll check it out . You’ll stay here and keep an eye on the group.” He threw a glance to the Druids on the ground. They were quiet now. It didn’t seem like anybody would be making another attempt to escape. Owain, Galahad, Jonathan and Chris had surrounded the prisoners in a wider circle. “Especially those four”, Arthur whispered before turning to leave.

“Arthur”, he heard Leon say behind him and his lower arm was grabbed. Looking back he tried to make sense of his friend’s expression in the sparse light. 

“Yeah?”

“Be careful”, Leon said, the words laced with honest concern. This night was not going according to plan and Arthur could feel his nerves thrum with another kind of tension. Leon could feel it too. He nodded earnestly, his eyes never leaving the other’s face. The grip loosened and Arthur was free to go.

He jogged through rows of still growing or already harvested vegetable plants. The green area between the city and the river used to be a wild meadow before the founding of Camelot. Trees only grew close to the wall and in a few groups along the shore. The area was well protected from all sides and they had quickly transformed it into farmland. Out here the light of the moon was much stronger. Moving into the direction of Blandford School Arthur squinted to spot anything moving between the trees. He was halfway there when something caught his attention. Down by the river he spotted two shadows vanishing behind a group of weeping willows.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away”, he growled to himself and changed his course.  
When he got closer he could already make out a splashing sound. At least one was wading through water. A desperate whisper could be heard. “No, stay there. I got it.” It was answered by a whimper that turned into a tortured groan. Through the lazily swinging branches he saw what seemed to be a tall but lean guy wearing a backpack dragging a boat into the river. On the grass was something that he would rather describe as a heap than a person. Laboured breathing and painful moans were shaking the slim body, leading Arthur to suspect where part of the bullets had ended up. One injured and one probably frightened, the odds were mostly in his favour.

Stepping towards the waterline he pressed his wrists together - flashlight above, SIG Sauer below - and sent a beam of blinding light into the guy’s face. 

“Ah, shit!” the stranger emitted, raising his arms to stop the onslaught to his eyes.

“Freeze!” Arthur ordered and took another step towards the one on the floor. “Don’t move a muscle or I’ll shoot!”

“No- urgh-” The heap began to shift. Under agonised groans and huffs the other Druid struggled into a sitting position before pushing their trembling body onto their feet. A bloody arm was thrown out to the side, apparently to cut off Arthur’s route to the guy in the water. The other arm was raised in his direction and even with the sparse light from the narrow beam of his torch Arthur could not have missed the gleaming steel pointing at him. “Don’t shoot him...ah...please.”

The voice was twisted by pain, the words hard to make out. The ragged wheezing coming out of their lungs sounded almost inhuman, more like an injured animal than a person. And still Arthur would have recognised it among thousands in a raging crowd. Lowering his still connected hands he brought the cone of trembling light to a sharp, sweat-soaked face.

“Morgana…”

His sister’s body was shaking so severely from the effort of standing upright that any bullet fired from her weapon could have only hit him out of sheer luck. But Arthur was convinced that she wouldn’t shoot him just as much as he wouldn’t raise his gun knowingly against her. So he let the barrel return to its initial target, the guy behind her, without taking his eyes off her. 

“Arthur, don’t… I’m begging you…” 

He could see that she was losing the battle of standing on her feet. For whatever reason she was protecting her companion, she wouldn’t be capable of doing it much longer. It was hard to make out under the intense flare of the flashlight and the agony written into her face, but her eyes gleamed stronger now, more moisture gathering at the waterline.

In front of him stood Morgana, whom he had known since he was born, who was his sister in everything but blood. They had played, studied, laughed, cried, fought and survived side by side. Even when the world had ended, twisted and turned, she had been with him and he with her. Even when their opinions clashed and they had fought tooth and nail to convince the other, there had never been any doubt that their adoration and respect for each other would prevail. 

And there was no doubt now.

With trembling lips he uttered: “What the fuck, ‘Gana?” and observed the relief flood her features. The tension and fear that had been keeping her up vanished and her knees buckled. Gun falling from his hand he caught her against his chest and held her tightly for several long heartbeats.

The man in the river made a few panicked steps towards the shore, but hesitated. Now he lingered in the background, his fists clenching at his sides in uncertainty. The moon cast its light pale and cold onto the scene, painting sharp shadows onto the stranger’s face. Arthur couldn’t tell if he was afraid or full of menace, but for now he didn’t seem to be keen to attack the man who held his injured companion. 

Morgana struggled weakly, her hands pushing against Arthur’s chest to create some space. He shifted her weight to cradle her on his right arm and turned off the flashlight, hoping to melt into the night and hide them under its cloak. His sister’s breathing was slowing down a little, but it stayed laboured and harsh, the pain in every drag unmistakable. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see the growing dark patch on her shirt, so instead he glued his gaze to hers and held it ironclad.

“You’re a Druid”, he stated, unnecessarily. 

Morgana’s lips formed into a grin.

“Yeah and you…caught me…”, she pressed the words out in the lightest manner possible.

If the situation had not been as dire Arthur would have dragged her for this horrible pun. Instead he forced himself to give her a lopsided smile.

“I knew you were up to something”, he whispered, voice shaking. “All the times you went out and were so tight lipped about it, always joking but never telling, complaining that I was nosy-”

“You are nosy- urgh...hah...worse than a fish- wife.”

“Are you really insulting me while...while you’re…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. His hand found hers and while they held onto each other he struggled to ignore the warm slippery touch of her skin. “Tell me why? Why the Druids? Father-”

“Uther has done good things for the survivors but...that was a long time ago...gnh ah...He’s just a dictator now…” 

Morgana’s words delivered merciless stabs to his chest. He stared into her increasingly glassy eyes but their expression was still iron and steel. Arthur had known of Uther’s and Morgana’s difficulties, and had even been present a few times when they argued, their viewpoints and opinions clashing like swords on a battlefield. The older she got the more unsatisfied his sister had grown with Uther’s decisions on how to govern Camelot and while Arthur had poured all his energy and efforts into his training to protect their citizens from the scourge outside their walls, Morgana had advocated for a more equal distribution of resources and a fairer treatment of criminals. While Arthur earned harsh criticism but also grim approval, Morgana earned scorn and rejection. 

“But he’s still our father. How could you even think of doing this to him? And the people of Camelot? How could you go against them?”

Morgana’s glistening face took on a curious expression. The crease between her brows deepened.

“What? I’m doing this to...save them…”

“By smuggling explosives and starting a war?” For a moment his anger outweighed his shock and he grabbed her hand more tightly, his eyes wide and accusing.

Morgana didn’t reply right away. She just looked at him in silence, heavy breath pumping out of and into her lungs as tears streamed from the outer corners of her eyes over her temples. 

“Merlin.”

“What?” Arthur said, confusion taking hold.

Morgana let go of the 9mm pistol in her right hand and lifted her arm to beg forward the man who had been lingering at the edge of Arthur’s vision. He started walking towards them, careful to not disturb the water too much. When he reached Morgana’s side he went to his knees, coming face to face with Arthur, his eyes wide and round. His hand grabbed Morgana’s right and she smiled lightly.

Merlin peered at her anxiously. In the black and grey oppression of the night her skin reflected the pale light of the moon, making her seem almost translucent, like a ghost. He could feel the tears prickling in his eyes, but he held them back. There was no room for premature grief.  
Everything had gone south so quickly after they left the tunnel, he was still unable to process the events. First two men stepped out from behind a taller bush, cutting off the direct route to the river, then four others appeared from behind. Somebody must have ratted them out, that much was clear. But it didn’t matter now. Someone, maybe even a Druid, had panicked and fired, when the guards started to close in on their group. Then there was only chaos. Chaos and screams, and Morgana’s hand around his wrist, pulling him forward, her black ponytail swinging in front of him, while her form stumbled further away from their peers. He only realised that she’d been shot when she collapsed at the riverbank, and as soon as he did he tried to convince her to return to the city. But it wouldn’t be Morgana if she wasn’t stubborn like a mule, pushing him to get the boat ready, to carry on with the mission.  
Looking down at her he could see that she had never been so vulnerable in her life. Always acting strong, always going her way, never backing down. How must she be feeling at this moment, he thought, knowing that the only thing that had saved them right now was the fact that it was her brother who found them?  
When he wrapped his hand around her fingers the coldness of her skin startled him.  
“Morgana, please, be reasonab-” he started but was cut off immediately when the grip of her hand painfully strengthened.

“I am”, she whispered sternly, her eyes seemingly piercing through him. “THIS is too important to give up.” 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to communicate something else, but before he could pry she had directed her gaze back to her brother, who looked more agitated by the second.

“‘Gana, what the hell's going on?” he bit out, wetness gathering in his eyes.

“We’re-” Morgana began, but a stab of pain shot through her abdomen, her body convulsing with the intensity of it. She moaned as her features twisted into a tortured expression.

“‘Gana!”

“Morgana!”

Both men shouted simultaneously. On instinct, they moved in even closer, their sweat soaked fringes now almost touching as they tried their best to hold Morgana steady and keep the wound from tearing further. The seconds ticked by slowly, Morgana’s pained whimpers and their shared hard breaths the only sounds to exist between them. 

“Let’s- shit- let’s lay her on the ground”, Merlin suggested anxiously when the worst seemed to be over. There was no reply. He tore his gaze from Morgana’s tense form to see if the man had heard him and froze. Merlin hadn’t realised how close they were. Arthur’s cheek was mere inches from his nose, his lids slightly downcast as he was looking at his sister. But Merlin could see the unsteady look in his eyes, the quiver of his lips, and it brought an uncomfortable pressure to his chest. Arthur looked lost. The captain of their guard, a trained soldier, a born leader, the most cocksure and authoritative person Merlin had ever seen - apart from Uther and Morgana, maybe - was completely out of his depth. He pressed his lips together and swallowed nervously, throat dry like parchment. “Arthur? Did you hear me?”

Like waking from a daydream Arthur blinked his eyes back into focus. It was the first time Morgana’s companion had addressed him directly, with a voice so deep and raspy; so close to his ear, it brought goosebumps to his neck and arms. For a moment their eyes met. The concern in Merlin’s was obvious, much too honest for somebody who he’d just met. He didn’t appreciate it.

“Yeah”, he muttered, his brain finally catching up. “Let’s put her down.”

After lowering Morgana carefully down on the grass, her small groans and heavy breath almost unbearable to listen to, Merlin grabbed his backpack and shoved it under her head. Her lids were still closed. The grip of her fingers around their hands had loosened considerably. Merlin wasn’t sure if she was fully conscious.

“We should get her back”, he suggested, thinking that Arthur would be on his side. But the man shook his head. “B-but she’s bleeding out. We can’t help her here-”

“And who’s supposed to help her in Camelot?” Arthur hissed, shoulders hunched in growing aggravation. “She’s a Druid, shot during an illegal operation. There’s no way we wouldn’t be caught.”

“But your father wouldn’t-”

Morgana’s fingers tightened around Merlin’s palm, squeezing it. He peered into her tense features. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. She was shaking her head slowly. 

“Our father’d never… betray duty over his...children...especially not me. He’s too afraid to lose- authority. He’d- gnh- he’d make ‘n example of me...that’s all.” 

“You...you can’t be serious” Merlin stammered, disbelief plastered over his features. No matter how harsh and strict Uther Pendragon seemed from afar, Merlin had never questioned that even he would soften when it came to his children. He was convinced that this instinct was at the core of every parent. But the moment he met Arthur’s distressed gaze the hopelessly cold realisation settled in his gut; they were fucked.

Only Morgana wouldn’t accept defeat so quickly.

“Arthur, listen, there’s no time.”

“Yes, I know-”

“No, you don’t...you. don’t. know.” Her trembling hand freed itself from Arthur’s and tangled into the shirt he was wearing under his kevlar vest. She pulled him down, closer to her face, to make him listen. “There’s no ex- plosives and no...no war on Camelot. What we’re doing’s for th-the good of everyone.”

Arthur grew irritated. “Stop the cryptic bullshit, ‘Gana. What is it?!” 

“A vaccine.”

The sound of ridicule left Arthur’s mouth unbidden. “A vaccine? Against the fungus? That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it”, Merlin hissed. “Just the hope to build a better life for all of us.” 

“Oh yeah, great. And what in the world gives you that? What on this god forsaken planet do you have in this wasteland that researchers didn’t fifteen years ago, or ten years ago? At a time when there were still supplies, electricity?” He loosened Morgana’s grip on his shirt to cup her hand gently. “‘Gana”, he said in an almost chastising manner, “I can’t believe that this is what you’re risking your life for. You’re not stupid. You know about the failures. You know why research is forbidden now.”

A long breath freed itself from Morgana’s chest. It resounded painfully between them, her lids closing with the loss of pressure. “Yeah, I know… but it’s different now… we--- ungh- we found...something. It’s what we’re smuggling.”

“Then tell me! What the fuck is it?”

For a split second her eyes flashed to the side, catching Merlin’s in a pleading glimpse. That was all it took for him to cave.

“It’s me.”

“You?” was all Arthur could say. He felt like his brain was about to short circuit.

Merlin ignored the utter disbelief in Arthur’s tone, though he couldn’t deny that it stung just a little. “Yes. I...uhm I’m….I’ve got…” Arthur’s intense stare made it suddenly very difficult to form proper phrases.

“Merlin’s had a breakthrough”, Morgana cut off his ramblings. There was really no time for this and they were neck deep in shit anyway. “He’s our-gnh re....searcher….we need him.”

Arthur was dumbfounded. “That’s all? Just because he thinks he’s had a breakthrough?”

“It’s enough to have fa- “, she coughed, ”Uther panic and send...send you after us...probably with a kill order.”

The realisation hit Arthur like the bottle of tequila his mates had snatched from an abandoned supermarket for his sixteenth birthday. He could feel his heart pounding faster while his stomach sank deep into his belly, nausea creeping up his throat. He almost didn’t dare to speak his thoughts.

“Father knew”, he said, his voice raspy.

Morgana nodded only once, the movement obviously costing her too much energy.

“Somehow...and he’s afraid…” The grip of her hand grew stronger again, her eyelids opening further, as if she was suddenly wide awake. Her other hand was drawn in and found Arthur’s collar again, pulling, putting all what was left of her strength into this attempt of getting her face closer to her brother’s. Arthur was too surprised to tell her off, feeling petrified by the expression in her eyes that told nothing of the pain that must have been shooting through her abdomen. 

“Just think….hah- what this means...We could -urgh- find a cure. We….hhhh we’d be _free_.”

Unable to escape her intense gaze Arthur held on to Morgana, his mind slowly catching up with the implications of her words. No more infections, no more monsters, no more walls. That was truly a goal worth dying for. And Morgana was about to without reaching it. Their father had made sure of that. Arthur himself had made sure of that. 

“‘Gana, if… if we hurry I- I could get you to a doctor. Maybe some intel got mixed up. If we talk to father properly, he might listen. We could-”

“Don’t be a fool… he’d never...give up his po-sition... Lit..tle brother, you...hurgh… please...promise me… pl...ease…”

Arthur almost crushed her weak body between his hands. Her eyes were falling shut, losing their light. He was so close to her that their noses touched and still it was hard to listen to her fading voice. The tears had started to stream from his eyes and over his heated cheeks without his consent.

“Yes, everything. _Everything_! Tell me, ‘Gana! _Tell me!_ ”


	2. Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Refusing to let Morgana's sacrifice be in vain, Arthur and Merlin come to an agreement. Together with Merlin's friend and fellow Druid Will they prepare to follow the original plan and make their way west in order to retrieve a valuable utensil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art work for this fic has been created by [Limeonik](https://limeonik.tumblr.com/). The next chapter will include one of her pieces again. If you want to check out everything please go to [this post](https://tayathestrange.tumblr.com/post/620257129844129792). 
> 
> And thank you once again, [snickersnack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snickersnack/profile), for proof-reading and giving some good advice!

As soon as his feet touched the concrete floor Merlin stumbled over to the sink and fumbled with the tap attached to a canister hanging from the ceiling. The beam of his torch trembled over the wall with ragged movement before he discarded it carelessly on the shelf next to him. His chest rose shallowly, his heart pumping in a restless, nervous rhythm. Something wanted to burst out of him but he shoved it down and put his hands into the cool stream. When the bloodstains finally started to vanish from his skin he felt like he could breathe again. Pushing wet hands over his face and into his hair he turned around and found Morgana’s brother standing forlorn in the middle of the small room. 

The expression on Arthur Pendragon’s face was hard to make out. Merlin’s torch was pointing away from them while Arthur’s hung almost useless at his side, illuminating a spot on the floor. Merlin’s stomach pulled into a tight knot. 

“I-” he uttered, not sure what he wanted to say, but was cut off. Arthur seemed to have broken from his petrified state and pushed passed him. Seconds later the water started running again. Merlin stood rooted to the ground, just listening to the splashing behind him, the knot at his center tightening even more until he felt the nausea building again. Forcing himself to finally do something useful he grabbed the electric lantern from the camping table that occupied the middle of the small basement room and turned it on. The cold light illuminated walls lined with shelves laden with supplies. The rows were only broken by a door, the sink and the ladder that had been their way in. 

The safe house was a small unassuming family home a ten minutes walk from the river. The actual building above ground was not more than a mouldy shell concealing the well equipped basement underneath. Usually it would be used to hide trading goods from the black market and as a base for longer trips into the Wild. This night it was supposed to be their gathering point for a last briefing before they would start their journey north. But no one of his friends or comrades had made it. No one else was here but him and Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Camelot security guard and the last person a Druid wanted to be in close quarters with.

“Here”, Merlin said as soon as Arthur was done and put a water bottle on the table. He was parched from running through a night which was missing a cooling breeze and the stress of each part of their plan having gone south before it had even properly been set into motion. And the tears. Tears that were threatening to fall once again. So he turned away from his unexpected company and gulped the water down. Behind him he could hear the other man approach the table and pick up the bottle. Merlin waited for the sound of the cap seal being broken. Instead a dull bang followed by the sharp noise of metal hitting a hard surface let him whip around. His eyes jumped to Arthur who stood a few feet apart from him, breathing harshly, muscles rigid. The man’s gaze was fixed on one point across the room. The plastic bottle was still rolling over the floor after having been hurled into one of the shelves occupied by several empty cans filled with a assortment of smaller tools.  
Still frozen by shock Merlin could only watch as Arthur acted again. He grabbed two empty mugs that were sitting on the table and hurled them across the room, both shattering upon impact. After that his fingers found the bottle still held by Merlin. He snatched it from him and sent it flying, water splashing everywhere. Finally freed from his stupor Merlin took a step back and ducked on instinct though the projectiles were not pointed in his direction. For a moment it was quiet again, Arthur seemingly out of things to throw until his eyes fixed on one of the folding chairs. He grabbed it with a frustrated growl and raised it over his head.

“No! Stop!” Merlin shouted. Stumbling forward he latched onto the chair and tried to rip it out of Arthur’s grasp. That agitated the latter even more. 

“Let go!” he snarled, jerking his weapon of choice towards him with so much force, that Merlin almost lost his footing. 

“Fuck no! I’m not gonna let you trash this place”, and after another second he added, “Arthur.”

It felt weird having the name roll off his tongue. Almost too close, too intimate for a man he had never personally known and only just met under the most dire circumstances. Hearing his name spoken in an unfamiliar voice seemed to have an effect on Arthur as well. He startled slightly and paused in his ministrations. They looked at each other for a long moment, time stretching thin while they both caught their breaths. Thinking the tantrum was over Merlin let his guard down, a little too early, though. The instance he lowered his shoulders and loosened his grip Arthur seized the chair again and swung it in a wide ark over his head before he smashed it onto the ground. The cheap blue plastic of the backrest broke but otherwise the seat stayed intact. Letting go, Arthur stepped away. His fingers were trembling when he pushed them through his sweaty blond hair, tugging hard at the strands as if the pain could distract him, make him forget what happened by the river. 

Merlin felt his throat tighten and heat pool in his eyes. He could only stare at the anger ridden figure in front of him. He understood, better than Arthur might think possible. Maybe his grief didn’t manifest in rage but he understood. 

“Arthur...I...I’m so-”

“Shut up!” 

The words hit Merlin sharply like the slash of a whip. He flinched and drew back but Arthur was not finished. With two quick steps he was right in front of him and before Merlin could retreat further a strong hand grabbed the front of his faded t-shirt and yanked him forward, his face now close to Arthur’s. Light blue eyes gazed intently into his and Merlin found that he couldn’t look away. The breath caught in his chest while his heart picked up the pace.

“We are _not_ talking about this”, Arthur said with a low rumble in his tone. “You’ll _not_ mention her or even speak her name while I’m around. Then we might have a chance to be civilised. _Do you understand_?”  
The question was no more than growl rolling predatorily out of Arthur’s throat. A shudder crawled over Merlin’s back, into his neck and up over the back of his head, making his skin tingle uncomfortably. The intensity of the man’s eyes had him squirm but he was not afraid. Any respect for Arthur’s strength and skill as a soldier he might have had vanished when he heard his demands, no, his orders. Defiance rose in his stomach, hot like lava, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it into the handsome face. He knew that Morgana was his adopted sister, but she had been Merlin’s close friend for almost three years. Her loss was just as hard on him. His eyes turned into slits while angry lines formed around his mouth. One of his hands closed around the one throttling him ready to rid himself of its grip.

A sudden rumble from above ripped them from their quarrel.

They both looked up and over to the ladder that led from the basement up to the veranda. 

“Somebody’s coming”, Merlin mumbled, unsure if he should be relieved or nervous.

“You don’t say”, his disagreeable companion replied and finally let go of him, only to shove Merlin behind him. Arthur raised his gun towards the trap door while he forced Merlin further to the back of the room. Usually he would have protested to be patronised like this, but right now he was glad for the surprisingly reassuring presence. 

Two feet appeared on the first rung. It was hard to determine someone’s identity from only their shoes - dirty, battered trainers had quickly become the general fashion of the apocalypse - but those ancient Nikes with a hole in one side were very familiar. The feet descended a few steps, revealing worn jeans with frayed edges. But what was most noteworthy about them, they were soaking wet. The intruder halted, fiddling with something. From the sounds Merlin deducted that they were pushing the wooden veranda planks back into place. It must be a Druid, Merlin thought, and his suspicion was confirmed only a moment later when a familiar face came into view.

“Will”, Merlin spoke, a relieved smile forming on his lips. His friend looked like he had fallen into the river, and considering that he hadn’t made it to the boat, he probably had.

Will caught his eye behind Arthur but didn’t return the gesture. With a stern face he let himself fall to the ground instead of using the last few rungs of the ladder and closed the trap door without taking his eyes off them.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, obviously agitated by Arthur’s presence. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“You know him?” Arthur murmured at Merlin, refusing to lower his gun.

Merlin pushed past the man, shoving the hand that was holding the weapon carelessly to the side so it would point anywhere but his childhood friend, and rounded the table to embrace Will. 

“God, I’m so glad you’re ok.”

It took a few seconds for Will to hug him back, and when he did, his movements were stiff.

“Yeah, me too”, he said, “and it’s no thanks to Uther’s lapdogs.”

Breaking the embrace Merlin grabbed Will’s shoulders. “What happened? Where are the others?”

Will huffed. “Caught. Four of them had been waiting for us. They were about to tie me up when we heard gunfire. I used the distraction to get away and jumped into the river before they could follow me.”

“That means the others are ok?”

“I guess”, he shrugged, “at least until they’re exiled or left to rot in Uther’s personal dungeon or whatever the fuck he’ll do to them.”

“They’ll be tried justly. There are rules and my father follows them just like everybody else.”

They both turned to look at Arthur. He had obviously decided Will was not a threat, since he was tugging his gun back into the shoulder holster. The look on his face was challenging, daring Will to speak one more word against Uther. Will’s eyebrows drew together, leaving a deep crease between them.

“What the fuck’s he doin’ here, Merlin?” Will turned to him again, grabbing Merlin’s shoulder tightly, while his gaze was inquiring upon his face. “What’s with the others?”

Everything in Merlin revolted at once. He couldn’t stand the look in his friend’s eyes or the touch of his hand. Brushing him off he angled his body away from both men.

“They caught us off guard. But someone fired at one of the guards, I don’t know who. It was too dark.” He fought to keep his voice calm, but the quiver in every syllable was unmistakable. “If it hadn’t been for Morgana I probably would’ve been shot in the chaos.” When her name passed lips his voice cracked.

“So, where is she?” 

Merlin flinched visibly at the question. He knew it would come but still just thinking about the answer he had to give was gut wrenching. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched, his fingers curled into fists. If he could have shut the world out and dissolved he would have. 

“Merlin”, Will said, more insistently, “where is Morgana?” 

Only shaking his head, Merlin drew even further into himself, not wanting Will to see his twisted features and the tears on his face. He refused to answer, as if he could unmake this night by avoiding its reality. 

“She’s dead”, Arthur said planely, his rough voice putting no softening embellishments to the harsh truth.

The sentence was like a slap to the face that ripped Merlin from his cocoon of denial. Next to him he could see the muscles in Will’s neck and arms tighten. His fists were clenched so hard that the bigger veins started to appear. He didn’t look at Merlin any longer, his eyes were transfixed on Arthur. Too late he picked up on his friend’s mood. By the next heartbeat Will was on the other man, throwing a vicious punch into his surprised face before pinning him to a shelf. Bottles rattled and fell to the ground. Some clothes that were stacked on the upper most tier , came loose and rained down on them. But neither Will nor Arthur cared. 

Taken off guard the Captain of Camelot’s security was unable to defend himself from this first onslaught. His feet scrambled to find the ground, hands pushing against the assaulting arms, but Merlin’s friend was strong enough to rival Percival. If he had not been busy with defending himself Arthur would’ve been impressed. All the while Will hurled fire and fury at him.

“You fucking arsehole! She was your sister!!!”

“No, Will stop! It wasn’t him! He didn’t shoot her!” Merlin shouted, grabbing one of Will’s arms to drag him away from Arthur. 

“Doesn’t matter! They’re all Uther’s dogs. Could as well been him-”

The distraction sufficed. Having found a heavy object on the shelf behind him Arthur swung it against Will’s face, hitting him hard in the temple. A pained scream fell from the other man’s lips and he loosened his grip on Arthur, giving him the chance to kick him to the ground. Without hesitation he let his whole weight fall onto Will’s body, pushing the air out of him, and began to rain down one punch after the other on his face.

“Arthur stop! You’ll kill him!” he could hear Merlin shout over the ringing in his ears, but it was quickly drowned out by Will’s words reverberating in his head; _They’re all Uther’s dogs. Could as well been him-_.

There was a click next to his ear, then cold metal pressed into the heated skin on his temple. The sensation was familiar, though only from training. His hands froze, finally granting Will relief.

“Arthur, I don’t want to shoot you. But if you continue to beat my friend into a bloody pulp, I will.”

Merlin’s voice was raspy, lower than before. He pressed out the warning with great effort and Arthur believed him. Taking a deep breath he raised his arms over his head, stood up slowly and backed away from his victim. Only then did he look at the gun that was threatening him. He could have laughed at the irony; it was Morgana’s 9mm. 

\---

They were sitting around the camping table; Arthur on one side, Will and Merlin on the other. Will was still regarding Arthur suspiciously, but his gaze had lost some of its intensity since one of his eyes was swollen now and an ugly bruise had started to form around his nose. At least the bleeding had stopped and nothing was broken. Thirty minutes had passed since their little brawl, in which Merlin had convinced his friend to not start another fight and had got them both to sit down in order to recount the events of the night. Arthur was still staring distinctly in the direction of the sink without actually seeing it. He had only spoken to give his side to the story without going into detail about his sister.

“She wants _him_ to help you get to the facility? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Despite the nasal tone coming off as more comical than scandalised Will’s refusal to believe his tale was obvious. Merlin knew this would be hard for him to swallow. Will hated the security troop with a vengeance and getting him to work together with Arthur would be a difficult endeavour. 

“Yeah… she probably already knew that most of us wouldn’t make it… she knew we’d need help.” 

“But we don’t need him. I can take you.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, you have to go back and look after the others. They’ve been taken and someone needs to tell the rest of us what happened… and convince them to keep their heads down.”

“Keep their heads down? After that?!” Will gestured at nothing in particular, his body language announcing a new wave of agitation. “There’ll be riots!”

“Exactly, that’s why _you_ have to go back and convince the others to keep it down. We don’t wanna start a civil war.”

“But he’s the Captain of the Bastard Brigade, Uther’s personal arse licker. He’ll rat you out as soon as I’m out of sight.”

“Are you done?” The exasperated question reminded them of Arthur’s presence.

Will looked annoyed but turned his full attention on the blond. “Shut up, Pendragon. I’m in the middle of remindin’ my mate that Camelot’s government’s a group of cunts who can’t be trusted.”

This time Arthur took the bait; “And these cunts have built a home for you and protected you with their lives! And you thank them by destroying public property and raiding our supply storage to trade the people’s goods on the black market.”

“The _people’s goods_?” Will scoffed, standing up now. He put his hands on the table and leaned further in Arthur’s direction. “Under Uther’s government nothin’ belongs to the people. He believes himself the King of Everythin’.”

Getting up Arthur mirrored his posture and gritted his teeth. “My father is enforcing rules that are necessary to guarantee a safe and just life for everyone in Camelot.”

“Uther’s oppressing people in need and telling lies!”

Arthur was only one additional word away from throwing another punch into Will’s mangled face when a movement to his left caught his attention.

They had been so deep into their verbal squabble that they did not realise that Merlin had left the table. The black haired man was holding a sizable grey backpack and proceeded to grab supplies, mainly food and water but also medical equipment and ammunition, to shove into the bag. All in complete silence.

“Uhm, Merls?”

“Yes?” came the mumbled reply.

“What’re you doin’?”

“I’m preparing for the trip”, Merlin said matter of factly, though his tone did betray a certain level of irritation. “You two can go on squabbling and arguing, beating each other into a pulp. I don’t care. I’ll finish this mission with or without you.” With a little bit more force than necessary he shoved a brown bottle containing pure alcohol into his pack and turned around to face them again. Merlin’s deep blue eyes spoke of disapproval. “Morgana was ready to lay her life on the line for this mission, for everything the Druids stand for. And now she actually had to pay up. I’d love to just sit here and moan and cry about it, but that would waste the chance that she’s given us.” Blinking away an onslaught of new tears he walked towards the two men that were staring at him owlishly. He dumped the backpack on the table which wobbled alarmingly under its weight. Merlin sighed and took his time to regard both of them. His oldest friend, who was a horrible hot head but loyal to a fault, and Arthur, Captain of Camelot’s security and son to Uther, his natural enemy, one could say, whom he had to trust now that Morgana was gone. “Listen, I know this is not gonna be easy. I know it’s fucked up as hell. None of us wanted it like this, but we have to deal with it. I will get to this hospital or die trying. But with your help, I think I can avoid the latter.” 

The seconds ticked by. He had lowered his gaze to the contents of the bag again, but he was not thinking about what he might have forgotten. Instead he was praying that these two could see past their difficulties, if not for the sake of mankind then at least for Morgana’s sake. 

“I’ve already promised to help you and I’m not gonna go back on that”, Arthur said stiffly but with a little defiance thrown into the mix. He crossed his arms and raised his chin towards Will, obviously challenging him to disagree. But he had nothing to fear. Will had always had a soft spot for Morgana, Merlin knew. The fool had been in love with her for years. If it was her dying wish for her brother to accompany Merlin, then he had no say in it.

“And I’ll take you to Crewkerne and then return to Camelot, just as planned”, he said, defeat heavy on his tongue. 

Finally some of the tension lifted off Merlin’s shoulders and he let a smile of relief ghost over his lips. “Thank you”, he said sincerely and touched Will’s arm. Then he turned to Arthur to show his gratitude, but the profusely confused look on the man’s face made him pause.

“What the hell do you want in Crewkerne?”

\---

When the sun rose over the horizon Arthur determined the temperature to be between twenty and twenty-three degrees Celcius. The night had hardly cooled the air. He took another sip from his water bottle, already dreading the oncoming heat laying in the red rays. It was past five now and they had been walking for two hours. Another eight lay still ahead of them.

Crewkerne was a cozy town about an hour west from Camelot. That was, if one was in possession of a motorised vehicle. In their case it was more a ten hour hike through burned fields and dry meadows, struggling to avoid other villages as well as detection along the way. Their goal though was not the town itself but the reason for its existence; the Land Rover factory. If his Druid-companions were to be believed, Will had discovered several cars in acceptable condition inside the factory and managed to get three of them to work. Arthur decided it must be true, since the man would not shut up about every detail of the repair process. It was almost like their fight never happened.

The plan was to retrieve one of the vehicles as discreetly as possible and, using country roads running parallel to the A37, getting to Bristol as the next stop on their trip. Their main goal was the _Institute of Infection and Global Health_ at the _University of Liverpool_. Apparently the fungus had been studied there before the country’s downfall, and the institute had been used as a research facility by the Druids in their early years before results failed to appear and the upkeep became too dangerous. The news of Merlin’s apparent discovery, whatever it was, provided the rebels with a fresh dose of vigour which led them to take on the enormous task of getting the facility up and running again. 

To say that Arthur was sceptical of the success of this endeavour would be putting it mildly. Though a car would grant them some means of protection and get them to Liverpool much quicker than on foot, it was no guarantee for safe travels. They couldn’t use the motorway since it was blocked by mile long rows of rusting metal and rotting rubber - the result of thousands attempting to get to harbours and airports to escape. But even the abandoned country side roads were a wild card. Nobody knew how well they had held up over the years of neglect, vulnerable to the elements and never fixed. The trip through Wales would be a long one. 

Around eight they rested properly for the first time. Arthur had pushed them forward, attempting to cover as much ground as possible in the cooler morning air. But his two companions were exhausted; none of them had had a proper meal since the day before, not to mention any sleep. Even Arthur himself could feel fatigue pulling at his limbs. The little shed they picked as their resting spot was mostly empty but for a runner that had somehow gotten itself tangled in a crusty garden hose. When Arthur entered, gun first, it started spitting and raving, fighting to get out of its confinement, but the effort was futile and its strength already drained from its lengthy imprisonment. He made quick work of it with a hunting knife.  
They didn’t talk much while sharing their meal, the atmosphere too gloomy and their minds too tired to come up with a good or even mundane topic for a longer conversation. The body hanging in the corner - from the looks of it a blonde woman, maybe in her late thirties - didn’t add to the cozyness of their little hideout. 

While Will and Merlin took a short nap Arthur stood guard outside. There was not much to see besides uncultivated fields framed by wildly growing hedges and a few trees lining the road in the distance. Though he had never gone far into the Wilds he knew that it was highly unlikely to encounter bigger groups of infected out here; where hardly any people lived hardly any people died. For that reason they were avoiding other villages and towns. Also because the one thing that was more deadly than an infected human was an uninfected human. Out here, far from any safe zone, groups with an extremely questionable moral code and crassly violent tendencies ruled their respective areas. Whoever decided to live in the Wilds had to either become part of one of the lawless clans or avoid them like a pack of runners. Arthur liked to compare these groups to outlaws or bandits from the medieval fiction he loved to read as a teenager, but in none of them he would find a Robin of Locksley.

The mundane landscape and their wordless walk offered hardly any distraction in the hours that followed. Arthur almost wished for some trouble to appear to force his thoughts into another direction but back. Back to Morgana’s glistening eyes in the dark, the warm blood leaving her body through her belly, her plea. Back to his father and the lies he had told him so he would catch some Druids, maybe even get a few killed in the process. What would Uther have done if the operation had gone smoothly? If he had Merlin delivered into his hands? Would he have executed him and the others under false accusations? Or would he have used him in order to create a vaccine himself, just like the Druids? Arthur’s gaze wandered up to the sun. The glaring disc was wandering high above them, announcing that noon had reached its zenith. They must know by now, he thought. One of his men, probably Leon, must have found Morgana by the river not long after he and Merlin fled. What was going through their heads with their Captain gone and his sister dead and revealed as a traitor? What must Uther be thinking?  
Sour taste in his mouth, Arthur tried to shut out the cruel thoughts his mind was creating to torture him. No matter their differences, his father had loved Morgana like a daughter; traitor or not, he would mourn her like a daughter. And he knew that his son was loyal to him. Arthur would never betray his father or go behind his back. What he did now, he only did for Morgana. 

Over the back and forth in his own head he hardly noticed how time and kilometers passed. Will and Merlin were walking in front of him, sometimes one after the other, sometimes shoulder to shoulder, always leading the way while he secured the rear of their little travel party. The impression of routine did well in calming his nerves. 

“What do you think, Arthur?” he heard Merlin say. 

Blinking himself from some kind of trance he focused on the object that was being offered to him with the question. It was a pair of binoculars. He grabbed them out of reflex and looked through, assessing the situation straight ahead. 

They had stopped at an unkempt meadow. Crewkerne Town lay behind them, bypassed in a wide arch using fields and side roads. About 400 meter in front of them lay a collection of grey uninviting buildings surrounded by a tall spiked fence. Figures were lingering inside, some swaying slowly while walking unsteadily along the yard, others erupting in ragged movements at random before falling back into a motionless trance. 

“It’s only clickers, or stalkers on the verge of becoming one”, Arthur commented, a question lingering in his tone.

“Yeah, just like last time. The fence’s pretty sturdy and there’s no reason for anybody to go in there, so I figure it’s mostly workers who got stuck in there”, Will explained.

“How did they get infected?”

“There’s a fungus growth in one of the buildings, however that got in. The rest’s history”, he shrugged and took the binoculars back from Arthur. 

Merlin stepped between them. “So how are we getting in without becoming one of the gang?” Despite the joke the unease in his voice was hard to miss.

“Getting in’s not so much of a problem”, Will shrugged while rightning his backpack. His hand went to the gun on his belt, as if he wanted to reassure himself of its presence. “Gettin’ out’ll be a bitch, though.”

\---

Merlin was tired. They had been hiking for roughly ten hours with hardly any break and now they would have to make their way in and out of this cage of infected, preferably without dying.

At least Will had not lied. The way he had been using to enter the factory to work on the cars seemed safe. With a spade that was hidden under a nearby bush they dug a hole under the fence in a spot that seemed to have been unearthed and filled up again several times. From there they snuck through the barred door of some office building to use the empty hallways as a means to get to the storehouse. It was eerily quiet inside. The carpet under their feet was crusted with dirt and dust, completely silencing their footsteps. Though the world had grown much quieter as a whole the absence of any sound but their own breathing was highly unnerving to Merlin. And judging from the look on the faces of his companions they had similar thoughts. The rooms to both sides were empty but for the undisturbed furniture. Strangely enough there was no chaos, no overturned desks or broken windows, no bodies. If it had not been for the dust covering every surface like grey fur it could have been just a normal Friday afternoon. Through a window in the back they climbed into a narrow alley that separated the storage house from the offices. The back door was close by and they could sneak in without the few infected lingering on one end of the corridor noticing them.  
As soon as they were inside Merlin took a desperately needed breath, feeling like he had been drowning. Pressing his body against the cool metal lining of the inside walls he closed his eyes to let some of the tension leave his body.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin nodded wordlessly at first and rubbed his hands over his face to get rid of some of the weakness that had crept into his bones. Then he looked up, glancing to his left to find the man still looking at him. There was an unexpected amount of genuine concern in the lines of Arthur’s worried features that had him pause. 

“Yeah, I’m just trying to… uhm… process everything”, he said at last and pushed himself off the wall to angle his body more towards Arthur. “What about you? How are you...holding up?” He was afraid the question, no matter how vague, would stir Arthur’s anger but he just had to ask. It had not even been a day since Morgana’s death and there had been no sign of grief but the outburst in the basement. While Merlin himself had struggled the whole way to hold back tears every time his thoughts went back to her, Arthur had appeared focused. Seemingly constantly on the lookout for potential threats he had scanned the area surrounding them with wakeful eyes, not slacking off once. Even though he was Captain of the security this behaviour was unusual.

Arthur looked as surprised as Merlin had felt when he received the same question. In the blink of an eye the Captain’s guard lowered, unveiling a picture of raw emotion under all the professional demeanor that let a wave of sympathy wash over Merlin like warm summer rain. He was filled with the desire to step closer and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, maybe embrace him for a moment to show that he was not alone in this. But Arthur must have seen the softening look on his face as well as the gleam in his eyes since he broke eye contact immediately and turned away. “Everything’s fine”, he grumbled and fumbled his gun into the holster, “I only asked you because you’re the mission purpose. If you die, all of this is a bloody waste of time.”

Warm summer rain changed into an icy shower. His mouth stood agape, unknowing what to reply. The sudden cold sneer in Arthur’s features let bile rise up his throat. New tears burning in his eyes from the thought of Morgana’s sacrifice, he felt his face twist to keep them inside.

“Why… why do you have to be such an arse?” he spoke through clenched teeth. “She was my friend, too.”

The sneer vanished. Instead shock painted Arthur’s face now, as if he hadn’t expected his words to actually hurt as much as they did. Through his blurry vision Merlin even dared to think he saw something like regret appear in his features. But the blonde man didn’t utter any apology. He just turned around, muttering “Whatever”, and proceeded in Will’s direction. Dumbstruck, Merlin just watched him wander away while he blinked the tears from his eyes. This was the guy that was tasked with getting him to Liverpool. Morgana’s beloved little brother. 

“This is gonna be a bloody nightmare”, he murmured and followed.

When he reached the two, Will had already propped up the bonnet of the grey Land Rover and was tinkering with some cables.

“Looks like everything’s in good condition.”

“When did you check last?” Arthur asked.

“About two months ago. I was more afraid of someone followin’ me and stealin’ the things. It’s hard to find workin’ batteries”, Will replied, closing the hood. “Everything else can be salvaged easily enough or fixed. But these I had to dig for.”

“But there are so many cars here…”

“Yah mate, fifteen year old cars, many partially finished. Also, we were not the only ones to get this idea. A lot of the materials were looted over time.” Walking over to the other vehicles Will popped open the hood of the black model, detached the battery and hauled it out. “It’s a shame. Had to trade a lot of good booze and some tools for the last missing one, and now we only need one car. But you can take this one at least, as a spare.” With these words he shoved it into the boot and slammed the hood closed. “Ey Merls, everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah, why?” Merlin answered almost on autopilot.

“Well, because you’ve been starin’ holes into the air for the last two minutes.”

Merlin blinked, focusing his eyes on Will. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Was just… lost in thought…” On that note he threw a sharp glance at Arthur, who quickly looked away.

“Well, ok, but it’s time to focus now. We gotta get this baby out of here.”

Will opened the door and dropped into the driver’s seat.

“This is how we’re gonna do it; there’s no electricity to open the gates, we gotta do it manually. I’ll drive to the gate and you’ll open it as soon as I reach it. This’ll attract the infected outside so we gotta be quick. As soon as the gap’s wide enough, you jump into the car and I’m gonna drive us through to the outer gate.”

“And how’re we gonna get through that with a horde following us?”

Will only shrugged and turned the key. The Land Rover protested and for a second Merlin thought the engine would give out, then the machine howled to life, echoing uncomfortably loud under the high roof. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it”, he said at last and the car started moving.

Merlin saw Arthur’s irritated face at what was a typical Will-answer and he found it almost amusing. Then he remembered what an arse the blond was and the laughter died in his throat. He walked through the rows of rusting vehicles to reach the long wall and followed it towards the gate. Its two halves stood on flat wheels which were wedged into long dents in the concrete floor. Some of the now useless electric wiring was visible before it led into the metal plating of the walls. Merlin grabbed onto his half of the gate and tested the movement. On the other side Arthur did the same. As expected the door didn’t budge immediately, they both had to put a great amount of effort into loosening the mechanism, which seemed almost petrified by the amounts of rust that was eating through it. When the gate finally started rolling the wheels screeched horribly, the sound spiking through Merlin’s ears and making his teeth hurt. From Arthur’s face he could tell that the other was having similar troubles. The Land Rover was rolling slowly towards them. Its engine did not so much purr like a cat than it was growling like an agitated bulldog. Altogether they were making far too much noise for Merlin’s liking. When the car was close he could feel the ground vibrate under his feet, which was strange since Will was slowing down. The vibrations also were not constant but rather seemed to ebb, strengthening waves massaging the soles of his shoes. He left his position, his side of the gate only half open, and walked to the widening gap, a growing sense of horror filling his gut.

First the light of the setting sun was blinding. The storage hall had only one line of windows built right under the roof. Inside it was quite dark and his eyes had already got used to the missing illumination. Blinking rapidly he cleared the spots from his vision and tried to force his eyes to see. As they did he wished they hadn’t. Arthur was grunting to his right, attempting to open his half of the gate with one last great effort. Before Merlin could even take a breath to scream at him the metal contraption jumped and rolled fully open. Then hell broke loose.

Arthur saw the terror on Merlin’s face but couldn’t place it. The black haired man whirled around, shouting at him to run before sprinting towards the oncoming car while waving his long arms in a ridiculous manner.

“Reverse! Reverse! _Get back, Will_!!!” he could hear him scream. Will seemed just as confused as Arthur but was probably reacting on autopilot, because the Land Rover stopped almost immediately and started moving backwards, not a second too early.

A deafening roar vibrated from beyond the gate into the metal plated building. The walls and roof shook with it, giving them a taste of what was coming. The arising earthquake told Arthur all he needed to know about how much he didn’t want to make the acquaintance of whatever they had apparently awoken, but there was no stopping their guest as there was no stopping a landslide. Like a mountain that had learned to run the thing crashed through the gate, ripping one half off its hinges. A mountain with arms and legs and a disturbingly deformed head, encased by ancient looking, petrified plates of fungus, an armour impossible to pierce by bullets. 

“Fuck…” he muttered and stumbled back, trying to put as much space between him and the abomination as possible. Luckily it hadn’t spotted him, blinded as it was by the growth around its face. But just as the clickers it seemed to be attracted by sound, if its next heavy steps in Will’s and Merlin’s direction was anything to go by. 

Will had driven their ride to the halfway point between the exit and the back wall. He was still sitting in the driver’s seat for some reason. Merlin was standing next to the car, eyes wide open, his bloodless face directed at the oncoming horror. Both men seemed frozen in fear. 

“Idiots”, Arthur growled and ran up the ally between the last row of cars and the other wall. He wanted to shout at them to move but he didn’t dare attract attention. 

Suddenly the mountain stopped and turned abruptly from side to side, its head crunching nauseatingly with the movement. It seemed to have lost their trace. If he could reach his companions and get them to bloody move maybe they could make it out alive. That also meant they would have to walk to Liverpool. But that was a problem for another time. He was almost close enough to Merlin to grab his arm and free him from his stupor when the creature took another step in their direction and screamed again. Its whole bulbous body started to shudder, the convulsions creating vibrations that rolled through the concrete towards them. Arthur stumbled. He had to stretch out his hand to catch himself. A low rumble reached his ears and then the giant’s belly opened up, fungus plates being pushed to the side, to release from their center a projectile large as a cannonball but fuzzy as the remnants of a half eaten sandwich after three weeks in this summer heat. 

“Duck!” Arthur yelled and finally grabbed Merlin’s arm to pull him down. The lanky man stumbled and fell just as the ball wizzed over their heads and grazed the car roof, leaving a dent in its wake while showering them with yellow spores, before crashing into a car wreck behind them. Pure shock left his mind blank, unable to react to the new threat. Then Merlin was above him, pushing his hands over Arthur’s mouth and nose. His black hair was yellow with fungus dust, half his face hidden behind a bulky air filtration mask.

“Don’t breathe!”, he shouted, and it was all Arthur could do to keep the panic at bay. 

“Where’s your mask?” Merlin asked, roaming with his hands over Arthur’s body, half blind in the spore cloud. Cursing himself that he hadn’t put it on his belt as he should have Arthur pushed his own hands over his face to not breathe in the deadly air and rolled around to show Merlin his backpack. He felt a tug and then another one, then hard rubber was pushed over his mouth. Holding his breath he grabbed the mask, pushed it over his face and took a deep breath. It was not a freeing gulp of air since breathing through the filters was always a chore, but at least he wouldn’t be infected. 

Merlin got to his feet and helped Arthur to do the same. Will had finally left the car, and also donned his air filtration mask. He dragged them further back to duck behind the Landrover.  
“What the fuck IS THAT?!”, he screamed, his face behind the mask red and sweaty. A roar and a crash could be heard from beyond their cover. Another spore canon met the wall to their left and dented it considerably, the metal plating bending apart, bolts and nuts shooting to all sides.

“It’s a bloater”, Merlin replied, his voice was raspy and his eyes watery from the dust wafting around them. Arthur wasn’t sure but he thought he saw an alerting amount of excited curiosity sparkling in Merlin’s red rimmed eyes. “That one must’ve been infected for over a decade. I’ve never actually seen one. Wherever it was hiding, we must’ve disturbed it.”

“Great! And what now?!”

“Let’s take our chances with the car”, Arthur proposed. 

“No FUCKING way! NOT. MY. BABY!” Will was outraged.

There were a lot of things wrong with a grown man calling a car _my baby_ , but Arthur was not going to delve into that. “Don’t be an idiot! It’s our best chance!”

The bloater roared anew, an earthquake of stomps arising. All three peeked around the Landrover to observe how it whirled around its center like an extremely overweight tasmanian plant devil. The unyielding body ripped metal apart and crushed the surrounding vehicles as if they were nothing but papermaché. Arthur gulped heavily and looked back at his companions, whose eyes were blown wide in horror.

“OK, my bad”, he admitted. They were not going to survive a crash with this thing. “Then we gotta leave it and take the back door.”

Will didn’t look very happy with this proposal either but Arthur did not care and Merlin agreed with him.

“Will, I know you worked hard for this and I know this would’ve been our best chance to get to Liverpool but getting out alive is kind of crucial to the plan.” Grabbing his shoulder he caught Will’s eyes, his gaze begging him to let go. The struggle was obvious but in the end he caved. 

They hurried away from their ride in the direction of the back door. The gears were turning in Arthur’s head. As soon as they were off the premises they needed to get away as quickly as possible to a safe location. The noise must be attracting a lot of attention and not only from the infected around the factory. They really didn’t need an encounter with some gang or tribe or whatever they were calling themselves nowadays on top of everything else. 

Just as he finished the thought the bloater started shooting his spore balls again, and this time he seemed to go all out. When the first projectile hit the back wall and dented it considerably Arthur looked over his shoulder to see if Merlin and Will were unscarthed. Both men were crouching with their hands over their heads, staring at him in shock. He wanted to wave at them, to hurry them along, but another ball came their way, and this one had significantly more momentum. The extremely dense plant material crashed through the seams of the metal plates, ripping an impressive hole into the wall. Arthur moved backwards on instinct and bumped into his companions, unable to tear his eyes from the sight. The noise seemed to spur the bloater on. The creature roared even louder, whirling again and shooting a whole firework of spore projectiles in every direction, turning the storage house into the equivalent of swiss cheese. Hands and heads appeared in the newly created exits. Ripping, clawing, scratching, screaming and screeching, the infected were swarming around them to work their way inside.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Arthur bursted and stood up, grabbing his gun. 

“What should we do?” Merlin asked next to him, Morgana’s 9mm in hand.

Arthur ignored the small twinge it caused him.

“We’ve got to shoot our way through to the fence. There’s no other way.” He could see Merlin and Will nod, though they were obviously frightened. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t. Never in his life did he have to deal with such a horde. 

Two stalkers with a noticeable amount of fungus growth on their arms and cheeks were the first to come through. Arthur made quick work of them, his gun barely making a sound through the silencer. More came from a corner to the far right. This time there were clickers among them. The heavy deformed heads on top of a body that still bared a strong resemblance to a grown human was the stuff of nightmares. Will’s shotgun was more proficient in blowing away the more robust plant matter, but it also took more time to load. Time that they didn’t have. Merlin’s aim was not the best. He often needed more than one attempt to succeed a headshot and even then the 9mm ammunition was not always sufficient to stop them right away. Arthur’s plan to storm the back door got further away from them as they were forced to retreat towards the rear of the car. When he felt the boot at his back and heard the bloater still rage behind them, he knew they were doomed. Will and Merlin arrived to his left and right seconds later, and while he couldn’t see half their faces the realisation in their gaze was undeniable. 

“Merlin-” he began but was cut off.

“No, this...this can’t be it… we had a plan…” , Merlin stammered, his eyes big and round, looking at Arthur as if he was begging him. “I promised Morgana… and everyone else…”

Arthur’s look grew soft and he felt the pain of his sister’s death once more. She had died for this madness that was doomed from the beginning. And now they would be as well. He had always known she would be the death of him, but not that it would end like this. He was just about to pick a few words of comfort when a bone rattling roar erupted behind them.

“Bloody hell!” Will exclaimed, peeking over the car roof. 

Turning as well to observe the new development Arthur and Merlin came almost face to face with the outraged mountain. It had come very close without their notice. Only a few seconds longer and the car would have been reduced to a flat heap of metal and rubber, but something had ‘caused it to stop. Something that looked suspiciously like the feathered end of an arrow that had embedded itself deeply into the bloater's flesh just between the overgrown head and the shoulder plate. Attached to the rear was a chain that led away from the creature in a straight line towards the row of windows at the top of the east wall. The chain, to their surprise, was held by a person. It was hard to make out any details and Arthur doubted that he would know them since all his friends and family were in Camelot, but the slim build seemed to indicate it was a small woman. He didn’t have much time for further evaluation, though, since their mystery rescuer took one step backwards and was gone.

“Did he just jump?” Will asked, dumbstruck, but their attention was diverted back to the bloater when it screeched and began to stumble sideways. The weight of their rescuer combined with the velocity of the fall seemed to be enough to bring the giant off kilter. It struggled to bring its legs, which after all this growth resembled short stumps more than human limbs, under its oversized body but failed when they got tangled in a wreckage. Though it didn’t fall completely the creature was obviously stuck, the chain holding it in place. 

The sudden shift in their situation had all three men gobsmacked. Not even Arthur was able to process the outstanding rescue maneuver. But the chain would not hold forever and the horde from behind had almost reached them.

“Shit! Will! Merlin! Get in the car!” he shouted and ran to the passenger door. It took both men another second to come to their senses, then they too scrambled for the doors. Will flung himself into the driver’s seat, turned the key and let the engine roar to life. Behind them Merlin had flung himself across the back seat and was struggling to close the door. A stalker had grabbed the frame and was not eager to let go.

“FUCK WILL! DRIVE!” he screamed.

“I’m trying!” 

Arthur could see that the man beside him was struggling with the gear change, the lever being uncooperative in switching to the right position. “Merlin, duck!” he commanded and thankfully the other did as he was told, giving Arthur a clear view to put a bullet between the stalker’s eyes. The creature hit the ground, the door shut and the car jumped forward as the lever finally jutted into place. 

“YES!!” Will triumphed and raced the Land Rover past the chained bloater, through the destroyed gate into the yard, which was close to deserted thanks to the commotion in the storage house. Even the front gate stood wide open. Obviously keen on getting them out of this cursed place Will accelerated,steering the car in the direction of the exit. But Merlin seemed to have other plans.

“Will, slow down”, he said and grabbed the inner handle on his left to open the door.

“Are you crazy!?” 

“No, he’s right, slow down”, Arthur agreed. “We shouldn’t leave our saviour behind.”

\---

Merlin refused to let go. It must be over a minute now, he thought, and still his arms would not loosen and free her from his embrace. He knew it was a little embarrassing and he should not keep her all to himself - she was Will’s friend, too, after all - but his heart was screaming with joy to see her and not only because she had saved their arses - once again. 

“Good to see you, Freya”, Will said full heartedly when it was finally his turn to hug her tightly to his broad chest. Her slim frame nearly vanished between his bulkier arms, but describing her as frail would do their friend a great injustice. Freya had always been the most resilient among them. She had been the only one strong enough to leave and never fully return.

“How did you know where we were? Did you follow us all the way from Camelot?” Merlin asked with an unbelieving smile as she pried herself out of Will’s bear hug and took a deep breath. She nodded.

“I was in the area when I heard the gunshots last night. I hurried to the safe house to see if anyone was hurt and saw Will entering. When I saw you come out with none other than Arthur Pendragon himself I got worried and followed you.”

She said it as it was the most natural thing to do, and knowing Freya, it probably was. Merlin and Will shook their heads.

“You’ve always been a little mad, Freya”, Will chided and proceeded to clasp her shoulder. When her big brown eyes took on a slightly uncertain tone Merlin hurried to add: “And we’re very lucky for that and to still have you as a friend”, and grabbed her other shoulder reassuringly. The broad smile emerging from her sweet mouth could almost rival Merlin’s own.

Upon hearing his name Arthur had drawn closer. Until now he had firmly stood next to the car, as if rooted to the ground, and observed the scene cautiously. It must have come as a surprise that Merlin and Will knew their saviour by name and were obviously quite close with her.

“Freya’s the name, right?” the blond asked.

The look on her face changed from joy to suspicion and uncertainty. Merlin knew of several reasons why she had decided to live in the Wilds about three years ago and at least one of them had to do with Camelot’s precious security guard. He turned towards Arthur but left his hand on her shoulder, mirroring Will.

After several heartbeats Freya nodded: “Yes.”

The mood-change didn’t stay hidden to Arthur who’s eyes scanned their formation. He didn’t take any further steps towards them. Merlin could see his adams apple work as he appeared to be thinking about his next move.

“I just wanted to say that...uhm...what you did was extremely brave and also very clever and...I owe you my life.” After another beat Arthur stretched out his arm and offered her his hand. “Thank you, Freya.”

The words were a little stiff but genuine, honest gratefulness written planely into the man’s features. Maybe the near death experience had humbled the prat at least a little, Merlin thought with an internal grin. Freya didn’t move to shake hands with the Captain right away, leaving him hanging in an awkward position. It amused Merlin no end. But at last, when it seemed as if Arthur was about to withdraw, she took a step forward and slid her delicate but worn fingers into his palm. The relief on Arthur’s face was immense, his eyes lighting up and a quiet smile appearing on his lips.

“You’re welcome, Captain Pendragon”, she replied, her tone slightly challenging.

“You know me… so you really used to live in Camelot. Why did you leave to live out here? It’s much safer behind the walls.”

On these words Freya grew weary again. Merlin could see her shoulders draw tightly together as she slipped her hand from Arthur’s and stepped back between them. She held her head high when she answered.

“It’s dangerous no matter where you go. I just prefer the dangers of the outside.”

Arthur’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

Freya just shook her head in resignation. “You wouldn’t understand and I’m not gonna explain.” Putting an end to the conversation she angled her body towards Merlin and put a hand to his cheek. For a moment he closed his eyes and bathed in its warmth, enjoying her touch once more. When he looked at her again he noted the fondness in her expression but also great worry.

“What are you doing out here, so far from home? And from your mum? I knew the Druids were planning something but nobody who I traded with could tell me any details. Some even refused to talk at all.”

“It’s kind of a secret…”, he tried to steer her away from the topic, but her raised eyebrows told him that she was not impressed. “Freya, I’m sorry. You know I’d trust you with my life...which you just saved...but it’s just better if you don’t know any details. All I can tell you is, we’re on a mission for the Druids and if we succeed a lot of things will change.”

“A Druid-mission? With Arthur Pendragon in tow? The Captain of the guard, your sworn enemy?”

Her scepticism was all too understandable to him and it frustrated Merlin that he wouldn’t be able to tell her about their plan, about his discovery. But the lesser she knew the safer she would be. Pushing his fingers through his tangled locks he left out a strangled groan.

“I know, I know, it sounds crazy but...it’s a long story. I promise to tell you everything the next time I see you.” His hands found her shoulders and squeezed them tightly. “Please trust me.”

Freya regarded him with the same suspicious look she had thrown at Arthur, but this time it was missing the air of hostility. Of course she wouldn’t be able to stop them but she could follow them again without their knowledge, endangering herself in the process. To his great relief she decided to let it go.

“Alright, go on your great secret mission. But if I don’t hear from you in a few weeks, I’m gonna find you and drag your sorry arse back to Camelot”, she said with a crooked smile before punching him in the chest. 

Merlin chuckled and rubbed the throbbing spot. “Wow, have you gotten even stronger?”

“That’s because I’m not living a life of comfort and leisure like the two of you.”

“Oi, that’s not fair. Merls might be sittin’ on his bony arse in class all day, but I’m doin’ hard labour”, Will complained with a theatrically scandalised expression.

“What? You call fixing my mum’s stove while emptying two bottles of her good homemade mead _hard labour_?” Merlin shot him down immediately. 

They kept on jesting for another few minutes, reliving a time when life had been a little simpler and slightly more enjoyable despite the hardships. But the gathering had to end eventually when Arthur noted that the sun was wandering extremely close to the horizon and they should be on their way before it became too dark to drive. Merlin couldn’t argue with that. He embraced Freya tightly but didn’t linger too long since there was another goodbye to be made. Will did not look happy that he had to let his friend go on an uncertain journey, accompanied by Arthur Pendragon of all people, but they needed someone to calm the storm that must be brewing among their peers and help the ones escape who had fallen into the Colonel’s clutches. 

In the end there was nothing profound to be said between them. They had seen the other walk into the Wilds hundreds of times and always known that they might not return. This situation was not much different. When their brief but intense hug ended Will clutched his shoulder but his eyes wandered to Arthur, who was standing several steps behind Merlin, his arms crossed impatiently in front of his chest. His friend’s gaze darkened. 

“Pendragon, if anything should happen to this big eared fool I will find you and make your life a wakin’ nightmare, got it?”

Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s reaction but he was convinced the blond was not impressed. Still, there was no audible reply, but what Will saw must have sufficed since he nodded grimly before turning back to him. Now Merlin found himself under intense scrutiny and he did his best to appear confident despite the strengthening nervousness creeping into his stomach. Will’s gaze lingered just a bit longer than comfortable but lastly he only patted Merlin’s shoulder and said: “Keep your bony arse out of trouble”, before he turned around to join Freya, who was already waiting for him further down the path.

Merlin lingered, watching the two wandering side by side in the setting sun. 

“ _Mer_ lin!” he heard Arthur call him impatiently from behind. “Get in the car! I’d love to reach Liverpool before I start to naturally decompose.”

He ripped his eyes from the shrinking shapes of his friends in the distance and walked over to the Land Rover, irritation creeping into his face. “This is gonna be a long drive…”, he mumbled, as he slipped into the passenger’s seat.


	3. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second stop of their journey takes them to Merlin's childhood home, where some interesting details about his companion are revealed to Arthur. Overcome by grief he doesn't take kindly to the new found knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art work for this fic has been created by [Limeonik](https://limeonik.tumblr.com/). The next chapter will include one of her pieces again. If you want to check out everything please go to [this post](https://tayathestrange.tumblr.com/post/620257129844129792). 
> 
> And thank you once again, [snickersnack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snickersnack/profile), for proof-reading and giving some good advice!

They drove until the last remains of dusk had completely vanished from the horizon. Usually they would have reached Bristol by now, the drive from Crewkerne over the A 37 amounting to about one and a half hours under normal circumstances, but they had to avoid the motorways as much as possible. The day the infection had reached the cities the masses of vehicles trying to escape the sudden outburst had hit the roads like an avalanche until everybody was trapped in their very own metal cage. Since then not much had changed. The people were gone but the car wrecks still littered the concrete. The country roads had fared significantly better, only a few clusters of abandoned vehicles blocking their path. On these rural pathways neglect was the greater enemy. Sometimes the concrete was damaged so badly by the change of the seasons that they had to slow to a walking pace, and more than once they had to stop and move a tree branch to the side or slalom around whole trees that had been felled by the autumn storms.

After nearly two excruciating hours Arthur started to wonder, if walking wasn’t the better option. Only one thing was more unnerving to him than the slow progress; the silence. Since they had climbed into the Land Rover and left Merlin’s friends behind the other man hadn’t said a word. Arthur knew he should be thankful. He had a great aversion against getting familiar with this stranger who seemed to know a version of his sister he had never seen. A man that he didn’t know, but for whom she had chosen to take the risk of death. All things considered, he should feel nothing but resentment towards this person, but when he glanced at the slumped form on the passenger seat these thoughts dissipated almost instantly. Merlin looked just as miserable and exhausted as he felt.

“So”, he uttered carefully, testing out his unused voice in the oppressive silence, “your friend, uhm Freya, how long has she been living outside Camelot?” It was the best he could come up with at the moment, and also he was curious about the young woman. He could see Merlin’s head turn slowly in his direction, obviously caught completely off guard by the question.

The seconds ticked by until Merlin released an audible breath and seated himself more properly.

“I think it’s been about three years. She left when I was twenty-two.”

Arthur’s eyebrows lifted in slight surprise.

“Three years? All by herself?” he blurted out, a little scandalized.

Merlin shrugged.

“Yah, for the most part, I guess. I don’t actually know what she’s up to most of the time. She still trades with people from different safe zones, so I get to see her every few months or so.”

“Aren’t you worried about her?” Arthur heard himself ask.

There was a sigh next to him. When he looked over the other man had reclined into his seat again and angled his face towards the side window.

“Of course I am”, Merlin replied, a trace of annoyance in his voice, “but it’s her decision. She’s capable and she’s been faring well so far.”

“But she’s in danger of getting infected or killed out here every day. Why’d she choose that over the safety of Camelot?” He felt himself strongly agitated by the thought. Camelot had been built to protect its citizens and his men fought every day to preserve the island of peace they had created. He had to go beyond its walls more frequently than he would want and could not see any appeal in living in run down homes on the constant verge of starvation, infection, illness and death. “Nobody should prefer the Wilds to that. Especially someone like Freya…”

“Oh yeah? And what do you know about her? My friend? That you only just met?”

The sudden aggression rising in Merlin’s voice made Arthur pause. It felt like he had breached a sore subject.

“I…” he said, his brain frantically searching for a good explanation, “I just think that she’d be better off under the guard’s protection. That’s what we’re there for. She doesn’t have to struggle like that.”

He could see Merlin shake his head, then he leaned forward, elbows to his knees, and pressed his head into his hands.

“Tse, you’re really fond of your security troop, aren’t you?”

“I’m not _fond_ of them; I respect them and know what they’re capable of. They’re good men who risk their life everyday.”

“ _Good men_ …”, the words echoed raspily from Merlin’s lips, painted with doubt,”I’m sure some of them actually are, but you’re delusional if you think all of them are honourable.”

Arthur’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He had to force himself to focus on the winding road instead of turning to see Merlin’s face, to read in his features.

“Well, they’re soldiers and they have to keep the peace. They’ve gotta be a little rough when the situation requires it.” The excuse sounded hollow, even to his own ears. Arthur knew that he didn’t have sufficient power over the older members, his father’s men. Still, they were doing their part in order to protect the peace. He had trained with them and fought with them, some of them had been his mentors, and for the sake of Camelot they had to show unity to the people they served.

“This is not about things getting rough during the riots. The Druids were just as much at fault for that as everybody else.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

A long breath left Merlin’s lungs in a weary sigh, his hands wandering from his face to the back of his head to massage his scalp.

“Arthur, in your eyes you and your men are the _Saviours of Camelot_ or some shit. But in reality a lot of people don’t see them like that. Many people are scared of the guard.”

Arthur could tell that Merlin was holding back information, as if he tried to be careful not to upset him. The impression of being patronised aggravated him.

“It’s necessary. In order for authority to work there needs to be a certain amount of respect and fear”, he bit out.

“Oh _really_?” came the mocking reply.

“Yes _really, Mer_ lin.”

This time the other man was looking straight at him when he countered. Merlin’s gaze was intense, burning into his skull.

“So, I guess keeping rations from starving people to force them to do your bidding is just a technique to acquire enough of this much needed respect and fear.”

Merlin could have spat on Arthur and it would have had the same effect. Hitting the brakes, he brought the car to an abrupt halt. His hands were still gripping the wheel, his eyes still staring through the windscreen when he uttered, “What? That’s not true.”

Merlin huffed and let himself fall back into his seat.

“Wow, Morgana told me you were naiv… but you really didn’t know…”

It was quiet for several seconds, only their own breath and the rumble of the engine between them. Arthur’s heartbeat started to hammer in his ears. Not even the mention of his sister’s name was able to distract him from this revelation. He bit his bottom lip until the pain enabled him to speak again.

“What’re they asking for?” he mumbled at last, scared of the answer he would receive.

His companion shrugged but Arthur could tell that Merlin was not as unaffected by the topic as he tried to appear.

“Different things. Booze, drugs, cigarettes. Some people told me they’re forced to steal rare goods from storage or were sent to the Wilds for illegal trade.” Merlin paused, folding his arms tightly in front of his chest as if to steel himself. Arthur’s shoulders and arms went rigid from the intense grip he had on the steering wheel, the blood having been pressed from his fingers and palms. When he continued, Merlin’s voice had taken on a darker shade, sending shivers of disgust through Arthur’s spine. “Yeah, but most of them want sex.”

\---

The night was mostly uncomfortable but Merlin was outrageously exhausted and could have fallen asleep next to an active volcano. Since they were unable to find an at least halfway trustworthy accommodation for the night they agreed to sleep in the car. Arthur took the first shift watching their surroundings. The plan had been to switch after four hours, instead Merlin was unceremoniously awoken by the car howling to life and moving forward. Dawn had already broken, telling him that his companion had disregarded their agreement. But one look at Arthur’s drawn, almost stony features was enough to keep any questions or complaints locked in Merlin’s throat. He just leaned back and watched the landscape go by until they reached the outskirts of Bristol.

Though it had been close to fourteen years since he had last cruised through the streets of Bishopsworth on his blue mountain bike he still remembered them vividly. The bakery where his mother sent him every Saturday to get fresh bread and scones, the barber where they had tried to tame his unruly mop for years, the kiosk where he bought sweets after school - all of it was still there, though the appearance had changed significantly. There was hardly a window that hadn’t been smashed to pieces, many doors to shops and homes had been broken down, some rooves caved in and nature had successfully begun to stake its claim again. Still, he always remembered the way home.

The house he had grown up in was a rather unsightly block topped by a roof of boring brown tiles, just like any other building in the area. The creepers, which had completely overgrown the outer walls by now, were very sufficient in hiding the depressing cement facade. Since the building stood at the tip of a dead end street they had left the car close to the main road and continued on foot. Though they were far from the city center the number of infected that lingered along the way had increased noticeably, their aimless trot along the roads and amongst the houses sending chills over Merlin’s back. To avoid unnecessary encounters he led Arthur through the fields surrounding the area and over the little hill just behind his home to get into their small back garden, which had almost vanished under the amount of greenery that sprouted from his mother’s flower and vegetable beds.

Though time had not been kind the building was still in acceptable condition. Aside from a few broken panes that had been fixed with wood or cardboard the windows were mostly intact, the roof wasn’t leaking and the inside had never been looted. Upon opening the back door Merlin was hit by a familiar smell that set loose long forgotten memories behind his eyes - his mother standing in the hallway in her dirty apron with the faded flower pattern, her hair astray and her soft voice calling him; his father at the front door, luggage already in hand, waving; years of scraped knees, visiting friends, forgotten school bags and goodbye kisses rushing in all at once. Swaying back slightly he had to put a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling. He felt a touch to his back.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked.

“I- I’m fine… just lost my balance”, Merlin muttered and forced himself back to the present.

They walked through the hall and into the small living room that was off to the side. All the furniture and small possessions were still there, but some of it had been moved aside to make room for the Druids to sleep and work.

“So this is another Druid safe house?” his companion inquired while looking around curiously.

“Yeah, it was my home, well, before.”

“So you picked it out of nostalgia?” Arthur picked up one of the picture frames from the mantel and wiped away the layer of dust. He snorted lightly. “I was more a fan of Michaelangelo.”

Merlin bit his bottom lip in annoyance. The picture inside showed him at about six years. He was standing in front of Bristol Central Ferry Landing, water glittering behind him, a huge cone of chocolate ice cream dripping over his right hand. His face was a mess and he was grinning like a lunatic, sporting a t-shirt with a crumbled Ninja Turtle print; Donatello he believed. Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he took the frame from Arthur and put it back on the mantle.

“Yah, well, I always liked that he was smarter than the others. And no, we didn’t pick it because of nostalgia. It’s just in a convenient position and it’s got a secret bunker. Kind of.”

That caught Arthur’s attention.

“What?”

“It’s hidden under the back garden. My dad discovered it shortly after he bought the house. Someone probably built it in the wake of World War II or something. It’s not very big and you wouldn’t survive a nuclear strike in there, but it’s a good hiding spot for supplies and people. There should be food and fuel for the rest of our journey.”

The other man nodded and shifted his gaze from Merlin to the open kitchen door. Behind the window he could see the garden.

“I see. Then we should grab everything we need and get going.”

Arthur attempted to go back to the hallway but Merlin grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No. We should rest a while.” Before Arthur could voice any protest he was cut off. “Yesterday was a nightmare and we haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least twenty-four hours. You haven’t _slept_.” Tugging the other along, he pushed him towards the stairs. “I can’t trust you to drive in this condition or evade attacks. You look so tired I doubt you could even shoot a bloater ten feet in front of you.”

“I’ve had target practise since I was eight”, Arthur grumbled, trying to get out of Merlin’s grasp. But his exhaustion made it easy for the younger one to manhandle him a little further up the stairs.

“I don’t care. You’re not gonna succeed in your mission like this.”

The struggle ended abruptly, Arthur’s arms slumping at his sides. Merlin waited for a snarky reply but got none.

“Alright”, he said, feeling awkward, “you can take any bed, mine or my mum's, doesn’t matter. I’ll wake you in two hours.”

There was a small nod from Arthur, barely noticeable through the muscles working in his neck. After another strained second he finally began to move up the stairs and out of Merlin’s sight.

\---

Though agitated from the exchange Arthur had collapsed into the first bed he had spotted from the cramped hallway. There was no pillow and the mattress smelled a little mouldy but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

When he woke again it was already dark. Arthur cursed. The plan had been to leave before nightfall. Why hadn’t Merlin woken him up?

Agitation crawling in his chest he rolled out of bed, ready to give the other man a piece of mind, when the floor suddenly gave way and he fell to his knees. The ground was much softer than it should be, and slightly slanted.

“What the f-”

A shot rang through the night. Arthur’s gaze snapped up, but instead of the dark ceiling he looked right into the open sky at a bright full moon.

“A-ar-thur…” The voice was weak, hardly more than a whisper.

Suddenly something heavy was weighing down his arms. Something big, and warm, and...breathing.

“Ar...thur…”, the voice spoke again, whining.

His arms slung themselves around the object, pressing it close to his chest. Arthur could feel his own constricted breaths becoming trapped in his lungs. Tears sprung to his eyes. He couldn’t look down.

“Help me...please”, the voice begged.

Warm liquid started to well up under his hands and arms, coating them quickly. He could feel it seeping into his clothes and pooling between his thighs until a puddle formed around his bent legs. He leaned his head back to focus on the starless sky.

“Arthur...look...at me.”

He began to shake his head, tears streaming freely down his temples now. “I can’t”, he whimpered, starting to sway back and forth, as if he was trying to calm the thing in his arms.

“...h-help me…” The voice was louder, more desperate.

“I-I’m sorry…’Gana…”

“Why?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head even harder. His arms started to tremble as the weight in them grew heavier.

“Why are you sorry?” Her voice was much clearer. Stronger. It seemed to reverberate directly in his ears.

“‘Gana, please”, her whimpered again, her limp body still in his grasp, dragging him down into the bloody pool surrounding them. He couldn’t let go.

“Why are you sorry, little brother?” she asked again, her voice echoing through his head while he sank deeper, her sticky blood slowly filling his mouth, nose and ears. And still, he couldn’t let go. “Is it because this is your fault?”

The grey afternoon light filtered into the room through dirt caked windows. It could have only been an hour or two since he had fallen asleep. Arthur blinked several times to clear his blurry vision until a cracked ceiling came into view. His eyes scanned the uneven lines spreading out in several directions, guiding his gaze along the walls to touch on ripped wallpaper and old water stains. He stared at them, burned each and every brownish circle into his brain while he waited for his racing heart to stop its painful assault on his ribcage. Breaths dragging in out of his lungs in shallow, quick succession, he still felt like he was drowning, but instead of a nightmare vision it was the actual memory of his sister’s demise pulling him under. Arthur grabbed his left arm and squeezed tightly, digging his short nails into the soft skin of the underside until the sting was all he could focus on. He let himself be anchored by it, anchored to reality, to the present, to the problem before him. As the minutes ticked by the pressure on his chest began to lift, making it easier for him to suck in long, relaxing breaths that were finally able to calm his heart and shake away the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to his skin. When he managed to sit up he could feel pearls of sweat rolling down his face and back. With a sound of disgust he unfastened the kevlar vest that was still clinging to his upper body and threw it on the ratty carpet. Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed he found his footing next to it. Dragging a trembling hand through his soaked fringe he looked around.

The room he had ended up in must have been Merlin’s once upon a time. The interior showed all the indication of an older child’s bedroom; a single bed, a small desk with a cheap looking revolving chair, a few model planes hanging from the ceiling and several shelves haphazardly stuffed with all manner of books and comics. Trusting his legs again he got up carefully and began to roam through one of them and discovered that there was also a surprising amount of books on biology, plantlife, zoology and evolution theory. Arthur’s gaze wandered back to the window. On a chest of drawers next to the desk stood a sizable glassbox; either an aquarium or a terrarium - it was hard to tell since whatever had been in there had died and disintegrated a long time ago. On the desk stood a simple microscope.

Arthur found his companion at the kitchen table, pondering some handwritten notes that were strewn about one side. Next to his elbow was an empty bowl, the remnants of a red sauce coating the inside.

“There’s food?” he mumbled, flopping down in the chair opposite Merlin.

The other looked up, obviously startled. “Uh, yeah, there is. D-do you want some?”

Arthur just nodded, passing a hand over his face. He could feel the beginning of a headache right between his brows. There was a clatter behind him and then a steaming bowl appeared before his eyes.

“It’s just canned ravioli, unfortunately. But it’s hot.” Merlin shrugged apologetically, a small smile brushing over his lips before he sat back down.

“Thanks”, Arthur grunted and dug in, uncaring about what it was that he shoved into his mouth. He knew it wouldn’t taste of anything, with his appetite gone and the knot in his belly pulling tighter the more he let the pictures of his nightmares invade his waking mind. While he mechanically chewed the stale meal he let his eyes wander over the papers Merlin had engrossed himself in once again. Upon closer inspection he could make out sketches between the scraggly lines of messily written words. He grabbed one of the pages and pulled it over to his side. From what he could decipher the notes were talking about some kind of structural change that seemed to occur in the fungus’ fruiting body when its host began to fall apart and turned into nothing but fertile soil for the fungus to grow on. Arthur couldn’t understand half of the terminology that was being used but one word caught his eye. It was placed next to the sketch of a budding cordycepts plant in bold letters; _FASCINATING_.

“What’s your job in Camelot?”, he asked.

It took a moment for Merlin to take his eyes off the page he was reading. He blinked, as if he had been far away. “What?”

Arthur shoved his half eaten ravioli to the side and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “What do you do as a service to the community?”

“Uhm, I’m a teacher.”

Eyebrows quirking up for a moment, Arthur regarded the man in front of him closely. He couldn’t really explain why the answer felt unexpected. Looking at Merlin’s build and his obviously studious nature, it made sense that he wasn’t part of the manual labour force. Everyone in Camelot had to fulfill the more gruelling community duties from time to time, but when it came to specialisation or regular jobs an academic career suited his companion quite well. Maybe the fact that Merlin was still a Druid and thus a rebel threw him off, Arthur mused. The thought that he taught the next generation was disconcerting at best. Of course, there was no training and no examination for most jobs in these times. Everyone was given the work they seemed suitable for, and if Merlin had shown sufficient common knowledge in different subjects when he applied, there would have been no further questions asked. They should probably change that practice, Arthur noted to himself.

“Teacher…specialise in anything?”

“Biology, mostly. Chemistry as well, but unfortunately we don’t have that much room or supplies for experiments. It’s all rather theoretical...”, Merlin answered, his eyes drifting off to the side for a second.

“Interesting. Judging from your bedroom the topic’s something of a passion of yours, I assume?”

He could make out a hint of pink in Merlin’s cheeks. The other one pushed a hand into his neck, a slightly nervous smile grazing his lips.

“You slept in my room, I see. Well, yeah, you could say that. I’ve always been fascinated by nature.”

There it was again, that word. Arthur couldn’t tell why, but it let something unpleasant rumble in his chest. Grabbing his upper arms tighter, he dug his nails into his skin.

“And it _fascinated_ you so much that you even made a career out of it, during the apocalypse. Pretty clever, actually, when you think about it.”

Merlin’s eyebrows drew together. His blue eyes squinted suspiciously at Arthur. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shrugged and leaned forward, upper arms on the table in front of him. Once again his gaze swapped over Merlin’s meticulously documented thoughts on the thing that had turned their lives into hell. “Well, it must’ve been difficult to follow your passion when any kind of research regarding the fungus and other biological topics is forbidden. It's definitely less suspicious for a teacher to request access to certain ressources or have certain books lying around. Even a field day to watch the infected could be regarded as normal. You have to teach your students, after all.”

“Is there any point to this?” Merlin interrupted, annoyance mingling in his voice.

Drawing his hands together, Arthur folded his digits in front of him, leaning just a little bit closer. He caught Merlin’s gaze from under his fringe. “I was just wondering for what reason someone like you, who had a seemingly promising life in Camelot, would join a radical group and leave the safety of its walls to go on a suicide mission. And it just came to me; what if you were no longer satisfied with what you had? You say, you find this _fascinating_.” He grabbed some of the pages and crumpled them between his fingers. “Joining the Druids with their childish dream to find a cure must’ve opened up so many opportunities to extend your research.”

“It’s not a childish dream!” Merlin snarled. Smashing his hands into the table he shot up from his seat, chair toppling over. “It’s hope! The only hope we’ve got in this dictatorship your father calls a government!”

Getting to his feet as well, Arthur almost hunched over with the surge of rage he felt when Uther was brought up. He clenched his teeth and growled. “This government has given you food and shelter when the world ended. These rules keep you safe, even if you don’t like them!”

“They’re unjust! They’re not what the people want!”

“And how do _you_ know what the people want?!” Arthur shouted, spit flying from his mouth. “All you know is the bullshit the Druids have been telling you for years. And for the chance of getting your hands on specimen and equipment and test subjects you gladly believed them. Just as my sister did.”

“That’s not true!” Merlin countered weakly.

Arthur could spot the insecurity in his features; the wavering eyes, the twitching muscles around his mouth and nose. His companion didn’t have complete faith in the rebels either; interesting.

“So then, _what_ did you find? During your research? What’s the big _breakthrough_ that gives you all that _hope_?” Walking around the table slowly, stalkingly, he dropped the crumpled pages to the ground. “How did you convince Morgana to mobilise all these forces and go on this trip?” His breathing was laboured now.

Merlin’s big eyes were glued to his approaching form. Upon invading his personal space the younger man took a step back only to collide with the wall.

“What did you tell her?” Arthur repeated, almost growling.

There was fear in Merlin’s gaze, now, as he regarded Arthur’s looming form for a long moment, before it swept off to the side. “I… can’t tell you. Morgana was adamant to keep it a secret. And- and I’m not gonna go back on that promise.” Wavering at first, Merlin's voice took on a stronger note towards the end. His eyes snapped back to Arthur’s and the older could see the determination in them.

Heart lurching upon hearing her name spoken by this mouth, Arthur huffed. A secret was as good as a lie, in his opinion. And that was all the Druids ever told. Slapping his hand against the wall right next to Merlin’s head, he trapped him effectively between his arm and the table. The new flicker of fear in the younger one’s face gave him a slight rush of satisfaction. His eyes caught Merlin’s in an iron hold. “If I ever find out that my sister sacrificed herself so you and your Druid friends could merrily go on and play scientists, I’ll personally drag you back to my father and ask him to make an example of you for all of Camelot to see. And I assure you, the punishment will neither be quick nor merciful.”

In retrospect, he should have anticipated the punch. The other man’s eyes had gone comically wide, his hands balled into fists, shoulders drawn up to his ridiculous ears. Each of Arthur’s words must have spurred him on like a red flag. Still, despite his training and experience he had not seen the attack coming until Merlin’s knuckles already connected painfully with his left jawline. Head whipping to the side he stumbled slightly, more rattled by the fact that this scrawny guy landed a blow on him than the punch itself.

“If I didn’t love Morgana so much”, Merlin pressed out between heavy breaths, “I’d kill you right now. But I couldn’t do that to her.”

When Merlin stepped closer, crowding right into Arthur’s space, the older had to restrain his body from retreating. Instead he forced himself to face the piercing glare.

“She was so convinced that behind her brother’s prattish demeanor stood a good hearted and compassionate man, I actually started to believe her. But maybe she was wrong.”

Without granting Arthur time for a reply, he walked out, leaving him to sort out the mess he made.

\---

Merlin stomped out into the garden, heart thumping fast, drumming in his ears, blaring over the whirling thoughts in his head. Nearly blinded by the tears gathering in his eyes he stumbled over to the iron bench that had stood in the back for as long as he could remember, and slumped down into the seat. Leaning his head back he let a few of the tears escape quietly while he stared unseeingly into the grey sky above and waited for his heart to calm down.

But it wouldn’t.

As the minutes ticked by the eerie quietness of the world started to invade his raging mind, pressing against his eardrums, making every thought so much louder, every word of Arthur’s repeating over and over.

... _you find this_ fascinating...  
_Joining the Druids with their childish dream to find a cure must’ve opened up so many opportunities to extend your research._

Yes, it had, and he had been glad for it. His involvement with the group meant a chance to learn more about the workings of their greatest threat. He knew it would broaden his horizons and give him knowledge. Knowledge that would be their only weapon against the regime they were suffering under. And there was nothing wrong with his fascination.

_And for the chance of getting your hands on specimen and equipment and test subjects you gladly believed them._

Was it wrong to believe in the message of people promising a better life for everybody? Even if he didn’t always agree with their methods, they were at least trying to bring change where their current government was creating stagnation and profiting from it, profiting from the constant danger they had become accustomed to. Even if the Druids lied to him, what made their lies so different from the ones Uther told?

_What did you tell her?_

“Nothing but the truth…”, he mumbled as his head dropped into his hands. “But maybe I should’ve kept it to myself.” All of this had been Morgana’s idea. When he had finally made the decision to talk to her she had been elated, her eyes glowing, her voice shaking from excitement. She had spoken of an ultimate opportunity for change and a success for the Druids, while all Merlin could feel was utter, mind numbing trepidation. She had been the driving force in all of this, and now she was gone.

He didn’t even realise he had started to tremble, wetness coating his fingers and palms.

“I-I’m sorry Morgana”, he sobbed, talking out loud to another friend lost, “but I don’t...I don’t think I can do this without you…” Crumbling in on himself, Merlin finally let the grief and fear take over.

He cried for a long time, violent sobs shaking his body every few minutes, exhaustion creeping into every muscle with the intensity of his outbreak. Snot and tears quickly covered his face and hands in an unpleasant layer of wetness, but he couldn’t have cared less. It didn’t matter. He had left his home, his mother, his friends because Morgana had convinced him there was hope and now she was dead and any conviction he had been able to muster for her seemed to have vanished.

Only when the creak of the backdoor echoed from the house did his tears subside, his attention diverted to the light footsteps approaching through the overgrown flower beds. They stopped a few feet away from him. Merlin struggled to pick himself up again, unwilling to let Arthur see the full extent of his breakdown. Cleaning his face with his shirt as best as he could he sat back up a little, still hunched over though, elbows on his knees and shoulders pulled to his ears. He was tense, clueless about what to expect from the other man.

The silence dragged on, doing nothing for his nerves. After several seconds Merlin caved just a little and peaked to the side in order to gauge Arthur’s mood. The first thing he saw was a pair of boots facing him, their stance solid, not telling him much. But when his gaze went up it came to halt on Arthur’s hands. Those rough and capable hands that had pointed a gun at him at their first encounter, the same ones that had also held Morgana in her final moments. They were now hanging listlessly at Arthur’s sides, not holding anything, instead clutching and releasing air in a nervous rhythm. The picture made Merlin feel a little better somehow.

“So...uhm… you really pack a punch, huh? I-...uh didn’t expect that…”, Arthur opened clumsily, nothing left of the aggressiveness his voice had harbored before.

Merlin looked back at his own hands, balled into tight fists on his knees. With a huff he released them, feeling the blood flow back into his fingers. “And you’re just as much of an arsehole as I thought you’d be. No surprise there.” His voice was raspy and it was difficult to get the words out through his swollen throat, but it felt good to say it.

Another long pause followed that Merlin refused to break. Let him squirm, he thought.

Arthur did just that. Looking down at Merlin’s tense form, he noticed the tear stains on his reddened cheeks and he did not miss the roughness of his voice. From the kitchen window he had watched him cry for a while, after the petrification from the punch and Merlin’s words had let up. He knew that he fucked up, was aware of it the moment the pain spread through his cheek. What was he thinking? Morgana would have probably asked him the same, enraged by his stupidity. He just couldn’t forget what she looked like in those last minutes; her agonised features, the desperation in her eyes, the blood soaking her abdomen, flowing out right under his hands. The memory alone drove him mad with anger and he was desperate for an outlet.

“Listen”, he finally said, fingers threading through his hair, “I’m...I’m sorry. I-I went off on you and it was unfair. I shouldn’t have said that...stuff.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have”, Merlin growled back, still not looking at him. His long fingers had woven themselves together, clenching hard, just like his jaw.

Arthur swallowed dryly. “I guess, I was just looking for...someone to blame for...you know…”, he struggled to explain as his hand made a vague gesture towards nothing in particular. He could feel pressure building behind his eyes, heat rising in his face. No, he thought stubbornly, rubbing his eyelids, he was not going to cry. He would not grieve her before this was over.

The gesture caught Merlin’s gaze. There he was, Captain Arthur Pendragon, standing in the middle of an overgrown garden in front of Merlin’s childhood home, and appearing wildy out of place. He was hit with an overwhelming sense of déja vue upon the picture. Arthur seemed just as lost as he was two nights ago, when Morgana was writhing in pain and it became apparent that she wouldn’t make it. The sudden pang of sympathy in his chest almost aggravated Merlin. Whatever Arthur was going through, it didn’t give him the right to throw around wild accusations.

Rubbing his hands over his heated face to get himself out of this strange stupor, Merlin got up and took a step towards his companion, facing him head on. The other man seemed almost flustered by the gesture, straightening his back instantly as he met his gaze.

“Yes, I know. I’m also looking for someone to blame for this. And just as easily as you picked me, I could’ve picked you.” He could see Arthur’s eyes widen but he wasn’t finished. “But I’m not gonna do that because, as you said; it’s not fair, and it won’t get us anywhere.” With this Merlin whisked past Arthur, stalking back to the house with determination.

Arthur whirled around, but did not follow immediately, too puzzled to move. “Does- does that mean you’re still ready to go through with this?” he asked, not quite sure about the acceptance of his shotty apology.

Merlin’s fingers were already on the doorknob when he turned back around. His expression was still raw and pained, but there was also a challenge flickering in his eyes. “It depends”, he said, eyebrows rising just a little, “are you ready to be less of an arse?”

\---

They wrestled several canisters of spare fuel and additional cans of food as well as water bottles from the bunker. After that they bid Merlin’s childhood home goodbye and made their way back to the car.

With this last official stop behind them they were setting their minds on the actual goal of their journey; _The Institute of Infection and Global Health in Liverpool._  
Keeping to the narrow but more isolated roads they followed the Welsh border, avoiding bigger cities like the plague. The initial ice between them melted with every hour they spent riding through the idyllic British countryside and soon they began talking about what they missed from their childhoods and how they had fared in the wake of the outbreak.

They were close to Stoke-on-Trent when the light gradually started to fade; several roadblocks, fallen trees and one intimidatingly big horde of stalkers forcing them to take time-consuming detours. Hiding the car at the edge of the city, they made their way up a street of townhouses and settled on a building that didn’t show any obvious damage. Arthur had broken the lock with a well placed shot and gone in first. When he deemed the entrance area free from any threats, Merlin took it upon himself to check the first floor, leaving the other man to look through the other rooms. Though the building appeared to be mostly intact from the front, Arthur found the backdoor hanging from its hinges. The kitchen cupboards and drawers stood open, most of their contents lying broken on the floor. What damage the looters had not dealt had been taken care of by animals and the weather. Arthur was in the middle of pondering how to best secure the back when he heard footsteps trampling down the stairs. Hurrying to the entrance hall, he almost crashed into Merlin who was obviously desperate to get out of the house, fumbling with the doorknob in frantic and uncoordinated movements until he finally managed to rip the door open and stumble outside. Though the urge to discover what had rattled him so profusely, Arthur forced himself to follow Merlin. The younger man hadn’t gone far, just to the wall that seperated the street from the property. His figure was barely visible in the oncoming darkness but Arthur could see that he was facing away, arms slung tightly around his upper body.

“Merlin?” he called carefully, still standing at the door. “What’s wrong?”

The only answer was a prominent shake of the black haired head.

“OK, stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” The order was probably unnecessary, considering Merlin’s frozen form, but Arthur’s trained instincts had kicked in.

Back in the house he climbed the steps to the first floor gingerly, crossing his flashlight and gun in front of himself. As soon as he had reached the top his eyes fell on a wide open door at the end of the hallway. Disregarding the other rooms, he made his way over and paused in the doorframe. The light cone hovered undisturbed along opened cupboards and upturned boxes, showing Arthur nothing but rubbish and debris, an unoccupied bed and an open window that had long since been claimed by creepers. As he stepped into the room the light touched first on a wooden desk right under the windowsill before sliding down to the dirty carpet in front of it. Arthur startled, finding a more secure hold on his SigSauer.

A body lay sprawled out to his feet and he had almost stepped on it. Kneeling down to take a closer look, he realised there was no smell. It must have been here for a long time, he mused, its condition confirming his assumption. All that was left were bones covered by remnants of clothing. From the size the person could’ve been male but he didn’t fancy getting close enough to confirm that theory. It was lying on its front, head turned to the side, showing off a significant hole blown into the back of the skull. The surrounding carpet appeared almost black. Though the weapon was missing, probably looted as well, a suicide was the most likely scenario. It was not pretty to stumble upon, Arthur admitted quietly, but the intensity of Merlin’s reaction still seemed strangely intense.

Something in the corner next to the bed caught his attention. Raising the flashlight, Arthur stepped next to the body and let the light cone settle on a shadow that was wedged between the nightstand and the outer wall. It took him a few painful heartbeats until his brain was able to make sense of what he saw.

There was another body in the room. The shape and size was difficult to make out at first, since it was sitting on the floor, huddled tightly into the corner. Decay had eaten away skin and tendons ‘causing the arms to fall off, legs and torso only still upright because they were leaning against the wall and being held together by the remains of something that could have been a blue dress once upon a time. A smaller skull was lying about a foot from the body. The sizable hole that had shattered the bone and the dark stain covering the wall were hard to miss, and as the pieces fell together Arthur understood.

Outside Merlin had not moved an inch. The flashlight revealed that he had put his hands onto the stone wall, his fingers digging into the crumbling edges. At a loss for words, Arthur came to a halt just behind him and settled a gentle hand on his shoulder. Merlin was trembling.

“She must’ve been so scared”, his companion breathed out, barely containing his sobs.

“Yeah”, Arthur replied softly.

“I’m sure he was desperate but still… how can you do that to a child?”

Strengthening his grip, Arthur stepped closer, letting his lower arm press against Merlin’s back. When the other man froze, he feared that he had overstepped a line, but just before he let go a hand came up to cover his own, holding it tightly in place. Turning off the flashlight, Arthur relaxed, wordlessly waiting until Merlin was ready to move on. When the trembles faded and he raised his hand to wipe the tears from his face, Arthur walked around him and opened the iron front gate, gesturing for Merlin to follow.

“Let’s find some other place to sleep. I hate the wallpaper here.”

Merlin snorted. It was a good sound.

\---

Arthur was dreaming. Merlin could tell from the restless movements behind his lids and the brief shudders that would wrack his body every few minutes. Whatever he saw, it must be nearing its end though, because the contractions of his muscles grew in strength and frequency, the look on his face becoming more tortured.

Huddling deeper into the decaying couch he had spent the majority of his shift on, Merlin let his eyes wander through the room. It must’ve been a cozy place once, with flower tapestry, an assortment of wooden furniture and a soot-blackened fireplace. For a moment he tried to imagine the people who had spent their nights here. An elderly couple maybe, with a dog. Merlin could almost see them in front of the fire, sharing a pot of tea. But the rotting wallpaper and destroyed cupboards spoilt the peaceful image.

“....’Gana...uhhh…you...”

Fragments of words crumbled from Arthur’s tongue, the nickname he had given to his sister being the only one Merlin could properly make out. He bit his lips, feeling pain and guilt wash over him. He had been just helpless in all of this so far, just a weight dragged along by one Pendragon-sibling at a time.

“Ah!”

With a shout his travel companion rose from his makeshift bed on the floor and started gulping down air like he had been struggling to get his head out of water. Merlin could guess that the sweat running from his forehead had nothing to do with the stuffy July air. Grabbing the bottle he had filled with rainwater from a barrel in the backyard, he shuffled over and handed it to Arthur. The other’s eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on him for a brief second, but then he grabbed it and chugged the contents.

“...thank you…”, Arthur pressed out between long sips, but didn’t stop until he had downed the water to the midpoint.

Merlin took it back while biting his tongue. He could feel an urge that had been strengthening since they had set out on their journey to the factory. Though Arthur hadn’t been the epitome of pleasantness at the beginning, he wanted to apologise, or at least give his condolences. The notion might have been ridiculous, given their circumstances, but it felt wrong to avoid the topic only to see his companion flinch whenever her name fell.

The thought was still nagging at him after they had left the townhouse to get to the car. The neighbourhood they had ended up in last night appeared quiet. Nobody was wandering the streets, no traffic could be heard in the distance. If it hadn’t been for the shattered windows gracing most home fronts and the occasional vehicle rusting in the middle of the road one could have thought it was an ordinary Sunday morning.

They walked quietly for a while, attentively observing their surroundings in order to spot any potential threat in time. Merlin’s eyes were sweeping over buildings and front gardens that were overgrown by weeds and creepers alike. Every once in a while his gaze would linger in some spot, thinking he had seen movement, but it would always return to Arthur, studying his earnest profile; the noble curve of his nose, the reddish lips, the strand of golden hair falling over his forehead and tickling the tips of his small ears. Before he could stop, his mind had already wandered off into a considerably inappropriate direction. Arthur chose this exact moment to turn around and catch him staring.

“What? Something wrong with my face?” he asked, holding his gaze bruskily.

Heat crept up and beyond Merlin’s neck. He could feel it reaching his very noticeable ears in a matter of heartbeats, painting them a telling shade of pink. Quickly he wet his lips to buy himself a moment’s time.

“No-no, I...uhm…” Nothing but the image of the man’s naked upper half after having washed himself at the rain barrel was provided by his useless brain. In the oncoming panic he provided the first thing tumbling into his mouth. “I was just thinking about your.. sleeping troubles.”

Arthur’s brows knitted together. There was open confusion in their tight pinch, but it didn’t hold long until comprehension smoothed it out. His eyes started to darken.

“It’s none of your business”, he muttered and directed his gaze back to the street.

The sudden coldness in Arthur’s voice sent a sting through Merlin’s chest. His steps slowed until he came to a halt. Just yesterday night he thought that the arrogant mask of Morgana’s brother had developed some cracks when he had comforted him instead of dismissing his tears. Arthur had not talked about it, but Merlin knew that he had seen it too. After they had found a place for the night he had even asked Merlin how he was holding up, but this time no hurtful remark had accompanied the question.

The older man had stopped as well, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“What now?” he asked, slight annoyance lacing his voice. Though somewhere in between there seemed to exist a hint of remorse.

With clenched fists Merlin replied: “It’s not fair.”

“What?”

“It’s not fair that you get to say that, that you think it’s your goddamn right to decide whose business it is.” He could feel tears prickle in his eyes, but he refused to let them go. “But it isn’t! You’ve got no right to act like that!”

If Arthur’s expression had radiated rejection before, Merlin could pinpoint the exact moment when realisation set in. Features sharpening, twisting to accommodate the outrage he obviously felt, he took a few quick steps towards Merlin.

“I have. Every. Right”, he growled. “You don’t get to ask me how I feel about her death! She’s my sister-”

“And she’s _my_ friend!”

Crowding Merlin against a car Arthur hissed: “And that killed her!”

Merlin’s eyes grew big, his jaw dropping open like a trapdoor.

“You bloody bastard…”, he could only whisper, at a loss for any other comeback. And he would never know how their fight could have continued since a stomach turning screech broke through the tension, effectively ending their shouting match.

Arthur whirled around, giving Merlin free view of a dirt path that led away from the walkway. Halfway past the length of the buildings lingered a salivating runner, fixating them with his restless bloodshot eyes. Its body strummed with nervous energy and obvious tension, ready to pounce. Another screech and it charged. Merlin was frozen, back still pressed against the heated metal of the car behind him. He was unable to move his hand and fumble for his gun, just watching as the infected drew closer. Thankfully Arthur had significantly more presence of mind. Without a hitch he drew his weapon, took aim and pulled the trigger. Two precise holes appeared in the runners head, making it stumble and fall even before it realised what had happened. It’s body slid over the ground towards them, moved further by its momentum, and came to a halt just before Merlin’s feet.

He gasped and took a step to the side to get away from the thing, goosebumps appearing on his forearms.

“You’re welcome”, Arthur muttered while stuffing the gun into its holster.

Only replying with a raised eyebrow accompanied by an exasperated huff, Merlin got to one knee and inspected their intruder carefully. It used to be a blonde, slightly thickset young woman, maybe at the end of her twenties. Her long hair was matted and tangled, the skin on her cheeks lifeless and broken. Grey lips hung open, showing dirty teeth. She had been bitten in the neck. Fungal pustules were spreading from the ripped flesh, creeping towards her face and under her t-shirt.

“She can’t have been infected for long. The fungal growth is still in its first stage.”

Arthur squatted down on her other side.

“How long then?”

“Can’t say exactly, but probably about three to five days…hm?”

A string of black leather wound itself around the woman’s neck. It seemed familiar to Merlin. He got back up and dug a foot under her to push her over.

“What’re you doing?” Arthur said suspiciously, but shuffled backwards nevertheless.

Merlin ignored him and just kept pushing until the heavy body tilted over and fell on its back. He gasped.

“This is-”

“The Druid symbol”, his companion provided and reached for the charm dangling from the leather strap.

It looked crude, definitely self-made, but there was no doubt about its meaning; three thin metal strands blooming outwards from the joined center into spiral shapes; the symbol of the rebels. Merlin’s mind was spinning, struggling to make sense of the implications of their find.

“But why? What’s she doing here? They should’ve been in Liverpool for at least two weeks by now”, he stammered, shaking his head unconsciously.

“You know her?”

“No, I’ve never seen her. But there are other Druid groups from different safe zones… at least in the south. Some of their members promised to support us.”

“Well, then she might’ve just been late and got unlucky”, Arthur said dismissively. But Merlin could tell that he was actively trying to disperse his worries.

“Yeah, might’ve”, he agreed, making it obvious that he was not convinced.

Some bushes that had taken over a front yard a few meters down the street rustled, forcing their attention away from the corpse. They could hear something scraping over stone and then the worst sound to ring out in this time and day reached their ears; a strangled clicking. The creature shuffled out onto the pavement, inclining its head in their direction. From the state of growth around its skull, fungus plates having encased most of it and hardened into sturdy plant matter close to wood, it must have been infected for several years. But no matter how long, the mouth would stay uncovered.

“Shit”, Arthur muttered and got back to his feet. “We gotta move, but be careful.”

Merlin full heartedly agreed.

They walked up the street at a brisk pace, as fast as they could go without running. Since the clicker’s ears were fully overgrown it would be unable to hear them, but it was highly sensitive to vibrations, too much impact on the ground would alert it to their location. Merlin kept throwing glances over his shoulder, desperately hoping they could outrun it, but instead the infected seemed to be gaining ground on them. Unconsciously quickening his step, he reached the intersection before Arthur. He was just looking back again, not paying attention to where he was going, so it was almost too late when he finally noticed the stalker charging at him from one of the branching streets.

“Fuck”, he only managed to utter before the creature slammed into him with full force. The impact brought both of them to the ground.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, forgetting their pursuer for a split second. He came to regret it immediately when the clicker let out a strangled cry and jumped at him.

Merlin saw his companion go down, but he had his hands full keeping the raving monster from sinking its rotten teeth into his neck. The stalker growled and snapped at him, spitting into Merlin’s face. When the stench from the ragged hole that used to be a mouth reached his nostrils his throat began to clench up, making him gag. Upon such close vicinity he could see tendrils of fungal growth reaching through the infected skin, breaking, twisting and oozing puss. By pure force of disgust he managed to push the creature off and to the side, rolling himself on top of it. The stalker’s body convulsed with primal rage. It felt like he was sitting on a bucking horse, pressing his thighs into its sides to avoid being thrown off. Strong legs kicked out behind him, dirty hands clawing at his chest while he fumbled for his gun. His hands were shaking so badly from the rush of fear and adrenaline that he barely managed to get the safety off and push the nozzle against the twitching head. The shot rang through the silent neighborhood like a whiplash. Blood and brain matter splattered from the exit wound, painting the asphalt in a sickening shade of greyish red.

Breath heaving Arthur slammed his hands into the clicker’s shoulders, his arms straining with the effort. It was heavier than he would suspect, considering the shape and height of the body. The enormous head was encased by bent fungus plates that must have completely crushed the skull and brain by this point; it was the plant that kept the host alive. Hovering over Arthur, suspended on a thick neck, it almost resembled a club. But the creature didn’t aim to bash his face into a bloody pulp, instead directing its ragged teeth towards Arthur’s neck, and it was gaining ground quickly.

“Fuck!” he growled as he felt his arms buckle. The foul breath was overwhelming. He could feel drops of warm spit falling on his skin, the snarls of the wild beast unbearably loud in his ears, mixing with the drumming of his racing heart, making him deaf to everything else. Squeezing his eyes shut and pushing again, he made a last attempt to free himself, but to no avail.

What a terrifying strength for a corpse being animated by some mushroom, he thought as his arms finally gave out and the clicker lurched forward, a triumphant scream echoing from its throat. But the agonising pain of sharp fangs ripping through his neck never came. Instead he heard a pained grunt. Then a gunshot. The piercing sound exploded directly above him, cutting through the rush of his own blood and the unnatural snarls, overshadowing both with an uncomfortable ringing left in his ears. The creature’s motions stopped, the heavy body now lying limply on top of Arthur.

Expelling harsh breaths from his overworked lungs, he opened his eyes to assess the situation. His vision was a bit blurry, so it took him a moment to make sense of what he saw. The clicker’s head was still hovering right above him. Where the fungal growth was usually thick and sturdy a sizable hole had been blown into its monstrous skull. Its ragged maw had come uncomfortably close to Arthur’s neck, but was now closed tightly around lightly tanned flesh covered by a soft dusting of black hair. Blood welled darkish red from the ripped skin, heavy drops falling onto Arthur’s shirt. Eyes wide with disbelief he slowly turned his gaze to the side.

Merlin was kneeling next to him, face ashen, upper teeth pressing down harshly on his bottom lip. Arthur could see the sweat pouring from the younger man’s forehead into his bulging eyes, still, he did not blink, features petrified. The arm Merlin had used to stop the creature’s onslaught trembled violently.

[](https://ibb.co/9bh3k8P)


End file.
